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- '^wA' 

HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


BY 


GRACE GREENWOOD.'^Wjl^^ 

WITH ENGEAVINGS FEOM DESIGNS BY BILLINGS. 


NEW EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 



BOSTON; 

JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 

(Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.) 

1871 . 




V\ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 

BY SARA J. CLARKE, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


\ 


University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., 
Cambridge. 


J^e-bebitateb 


MARCEL, FRED, FANNY, and FRANK BAILEY, 

OF WASHINGTON, D. C. 



CONTENTS 


KETURAH, THE CAT 

SAM, THE COCKEREL .... 
TOBY, THE HAWK .... 
MILLY, THE PONY, AND CARLO, THE DOG 
CORA, THE SPANIEL 

JACK, THE DRAKE • . . . . 

HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND 

BOB, THE COSSET .... 

ROBIN REDBREAST .... 

TOM 


PAGE 

1 

17 

23 

34 

49 

58 

67 

79 

86 

' 98 


SUPPLEMENTARY STORIES. 


FIDO THE BRAVE 109 

CAT TALES. 

FAITHFUL GRIMALKIN . . . . . 117 

OBEDIENT THOMAS 120 

KATRINA AND KATINKA 124 


VI 


CONTENTS 


FEATHERED PETS. 

^OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS 35 

THE BENEVOLENT SHANGHAI . . . . 151 

. THE GALLANT BANTAM 153 

V 

y THE DISOWNED CHICKS . , . . 157 




> 


HISTOHY OF MY PETS. 


^KETURAH, THE CAT.. 

The first pet, in whose history you 
would take any interest, came into my 
possession when I was about nine years 
old. I remember the day as plainly 
as I remember yesterday. I was going 
home from school, very sad and out of hu- 
mor with myself, for I had been marked 
deficient in Geography, and had gone 
down to the very foot in the spelling- 
class. On the way I was obliged to pass 
a little old log-house, which stood near 
the road, and which I generally ran by 
in a great hurry, as the woman who lived 
there had the name of being a scold and 
1 


2 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


a sort of a witch. She certainly was s 
stout, ugly woman, who drank a great 
deal of cider, and sometimes beat her hus 
band, — which was very cruel, as he Avaa 
a mild, little man, and took good care of 
the baby while she went to mill. But 
that day I trudged along carelessly and 
slowly, for I was too unhappy to be afraid, 
even of* that dreadful woman. Yet I 
started, and felt my heart beat fast, when 
she called out to me. “ Stop, little girl ! ” 
she said ; “ don’t you want this ’ere 
young cat '? ” and held out a beautiful 
white kitten. I ran at once and caught 
it from her hands, thanking her as well 
as I could, and started for home, care- 
fully covering pussy’s head with my pina- 
fore, lest she should see where I took her, 
and so know the way back. She was 
rather uneasy, and scratched my arms a 
good deal ; — but I did not mind that, I 
was so entirely happy in my new pet. 
When I reached home, and my mother 
looked more annoyed than pleased with 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


3 


the little stranger, and my father and 
brothers would take no particular notice 
of her, I thought they must be very hard- 
hearted indeed, not to be moved by her 
beauty and innocence. My brother Wil- 
liam, however, who was very obliging, and 
quite a mechanic, made a nice little house, 
or “ cat-cote,” as he called it, in the back 
yard, and put in it some clean straw for 
her to lie on. I then gave her a plentiful 
supper of new milk, and put her to bed 
with my own hands. It was long before 
I could sleep myself that night, for think- 
ing of my pet. I remember I dreamed 
that little angels came to watch over me, 
as I had been told they would watch over 
good children, but that, when they came 
near to my bedside, they all turned into 
white kittens and purred over my sleep. 

The next morning, I asked my mother 
for a name for pussy. She laughed and 
gave me “ Keturah,” — saying that it was 
a good Sunday name, but that I might 
call her Kitty, for short. 


4 


HISTORY OF MY FETS. 


Soon, I am happy to say, all the family 
grew to liking my pet very much, and I 
became exceedingly fond and proud of 
her. Every night when I returned from 
school, I thought I could see an improve- 
ment in her, till I came to consider her a 
kitten of prodigious talent. I have seen 
many cats in my day, and I still think that 
Keturah was very bright. She could per- 
form a great many wonderful exploits, — 
such as playing hide and seek with me, all 
through the house, and lying on her back 
perfectly still, and pretending to be dead. 
I made her a little cloak, cap, and bonnet, 
and she would sit up straight, dressed in 
them, on a little chair, for all the world 
like some queer old woman. Once, after 
I had been to the menagerie, I made her a 
gay suit of clothes, and taught her to ride 
my brother’s little dog, as I had seen the 
monkey ride the pony. She, in her turn, 
was very fond of me, and would follow me 
whenever she could. 

It happened that when Kitty was about 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


6 


a year old, and quite a sizable cat, I be* 
came very much interested in some relig- 
ious meetings which were held on every 
Wednesday evening in the village church, 
about half a mile from our house. I 
really^ enjoyed them very much, for I 
loved our minister, who was a good and 
kind man, and I always felt a better and 
happier child after hearing him preach, 
even though I did not understand all that 
he said. One evening it chanced that 
there were none going from our house; 
but my mother, who saw that I was sadly 
disappointed, gave me leave to go Vv^ith a 
neighbouring family, who never missed a 
meeting of the sort. But when I reached 
Deacon Wilson’s, I found that they were 
already gone. Yet, as it was not quite 
dark, I went on by myself, intending, if I 
did not overtake them, to go directly to 
their pew. I had not gone far before I 
found Kitty at my heels. I spoke as 
crossly as I could to her, and sent her 
back, — looking after her till she was out 


6 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


of sight. But just as I reached the 
church, she came bounding over the fence 
and went trotting along before me. Now, 
what could I do ? I felt that it would be 
very wicked to take a cat to meeting, but 
I feared that, if I left her outside, she 
might be lost, or stolen, or killed. So I 
took her up under my shawl, and went 
softly into church. I dared not carry her 
to Deacon Wilson’s pew, which was just 
before the pulpit, but sat down in the far- 
ther end of the first slip, behind a pillar, 
and with nobody near. 

I was very sorry to find that it was 
not our handsome, youhg minister that 
preached, but an old man and a stranger. 
His sermon may have been a fine one, for 
the grown-up people, but it struck me as 
rather dull. I had been a strawberrying 
that afternoon, and was sadly tired, — and 
the cat in my lap purred so drowsily, that 
I soon found my eyes closing, and my head 
nodding wisely to every thing the minister 
said. I tried every way to keep awake. 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


7 


but it was-of no use. I finally fell asleep, 
and slept as soundly as I ever slept in my 
life. 

When I awoke at last, I did not know 
where I was. All was dark around me, 
and there was the sound of rain without. 
The meeting was over, the people had 
all gone, without having seen me, and I 
was alone in the old church at midnight ! 

As soon as I saw how it was, I set up 
a great cry, and shrieked and called at 
the top of my voice. But nobody heard 
me, — for the very good reason that no- 
body lived anywhere near. I will do Kitty 
the justice to say, that she showed no fear 
at this trying time, but purred and rubbed 
against me, as much as to say, — “ Keep 
a good heart, my little mistress ! ” 

O, ’t was a dreadful place in which to 
be, in the dark night ! — There, where I 
had heard such awful things preached 
about, before our new minister came, who 
loved children tof' well to frighten them 
but who chose rather to talk about our 


8 


HISTORY OF M 


good Father in Heaven, and the deal 
Saviour, who took little children in his 
arms and blessed them. I thought of 
Him then, and when I had said my 
prayers I felt braver, and had courage 
enough to go and try the doors ; but all 
were locked fast. Then I sat down and 
cried more bitterly than ever, but Kitty 
purred cheerfully all the time. 

At last I remembered that I had seen 
one of the back- windows open that even- 
ing, — perhaps I might get out through 
that. So I groped my way up the broad 
aisle, breathing hard with awe and fear. 
As I was passing the pulpit, there came a 
clap of thunder which jarred the whole 
building, and the great red Bible, which 
lay on the black velvet cushions of the 
desk, fell right at my feet ! I came near 
falling myself, I was so dreadfully scared ; 
but I made my way to the window, which 
1 found was open by the rain beating 
in. But though I stretchr^d myself up 
on tiptoe, I could not quite reach the 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


9 


sill. Then I went back by the pulpit 
and got the big Bible, which I placed on 
the floor edgeways against the wall, and 
by that help I clambered to the window. 
I feared I was a great sinner to make 
such use of the Bible, and such a splen- 
did book too, but I could not help it. I 
put Kitty out first, and then swung my- 
self down. It rained a little, and was so 
dark that I could see nothing but my 
white kitten, who ran along before me, 
and was both a lantern and a guide. I 
hardly know how I got home, but there I 
found myself at last. All was still, but I 
soon roused the whole house ; for, when 
the danger and trouble were over, I cried 
the loudest with fright and cold. My 
mother had supposed that Deacon Wil- 
son’s family had kept me for the night, as 
I often stayed with them, and had felt no 
anxiety for me. 

Dear mother ! — I remember how she 
took off my dripping clothes, and made 
me some wann drink, and put me snugly 


10 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


to bed, and laughed and cried, as she 
listened to my adventures, and kissed me 
and comforted me till I fell asleep. Nor 
was Kitty forgotten, but was fed and put 
as cosily to bed as her poor mistress. 

The next morning I awoke with a 
dreadful headache, and when I tried to 
rise I found I could not stand. I do not 
remember much more, except that my fa- 
ther, who was a physician, came and felt 
my pulse, and said I had a high fever, 
brought on by the fright and exposure of 
the night previous. I was very sick in- 
deed for three or four weeks, and all that 
time my faithful Kitty stayed by the side 
of my bed. She could be kept out of the 
room but a few moments during the day, 
and mewed piteously when they put her in 
her little house at night. My friends said 
tliat it was really very affecting to see her 
love and devotion ; but I knew very little 
about it, as I was out of my head, or in a 
stupor, most of the time. Yet I remem- 
ber how the good creature frolicked about 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


11 


me the first time I was placed in an arm- 
chair, and wheeled out into the dining- 
room to take breakfast wi th the family ; 
and when, about a week later, my brother 
Charles took me in his strong arms and 
carried me out into the garden, how she 
ran up and down the walks, half crazy 
with delight, and danced along sideways, 
and jumped out at us from behind cur- 
rant-bushes, in a most cunning and start- 
ling manner. 

1 remember now how strange the gar- 
den looked, — how changed from what I 
had last seen it. The roses were all, all 
gone, and the China-asters and marigolds 
were in bloom. When my brother passed 
with me through the corn and beans, I 
wondered he did not get lost, they were 
grown so thick and high. 

It was in the autumn after this sickness, 
that one afternoon I was sitting under the 
shade of a favorite apple-tree, reading Mrs. 
Sherwood’s sweet story of “ Little Henry 
and his Bearer.” I remember how I cried 


12 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


over it, grieving for poor Henry and hia 
dear teacher. Ah, I little thought how 
soon my tears must flow for myself and my 
Kitty ! It was then that my sister came 
to me, looking sadly troubled, to tell me 
the news. Our brother William, who was 
a little mischievous, had been amusing 
himself by throwing Kitty from a high 
window, and seeing her turn somersets 
in the air, and alight on her feet un- 
hurt. But at last, becoming tired or diz- 
zy, she had fallen on her back and bro- 
ken the spine, just below her shoulders. 
I ran at once to where she lay on the turf, 
moaning in her pain. I sat down beside 
her, and cried as though my heart would 
break. There I stayed till evening, when 
my mother had Kitty taken up very gen- 
tly, carried into the house, and laid on a 
soft cushion. Then my father carefully 
examined her hurt. He shook his head, 
said she could not possibly gel well, and 
that she should be put out of her misery 
at once. But I begged that she might be 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


13 


allowed to live till the next day. I did 
not eat much supper that night, or break- 
fast in the morning, but grieved incessant- 
ly for her who had been to me a fast friend 
in sickness as in health. 

About nine o’clock of a pleasant Sep- 
tember morning, my brothers came and 
held a council round poor Kitty, who was 
lying on a cushion in my lap, moaning 
with every breath ; and they decided 
that, out of pity for her suffering, they 
must put her to death. The next ques- 
tion was, how this was to be done. “ Cut 
her head off with the axe ! ” said my 
brother Charles, trying to look very manly 
and stern, with his lip quivering all the 
while. But my brother William, who 
had just been reading a history of the 
French Revolution, and how they took 
off the heads of people with a machine 
called the guillotine, suggested that the 
straw-cutter in the barn would do the 
work as well, and not be so painful for 
the executioner. This was agreed to by 
all present. 


14 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


Weeping harder than ever, I then took 
a last leave of my dear pet, my good 
and loving and beautiful Kitty. They 
took her to the guillotine, while I ran and 
shut myself up in a dark closet, and stop- 
ped my ears till they came and told me 
that all was over. 

The next time I saw my poor pet, she 
was lying in a cigar-hox, ready for hurial. 
They had bound her head on very cleverly 
with bandages, and washed all the blood 
off from her white breast; clover-blos- 
soms were scattered over her, and a green 
sprig of catnip was placed between her 
paws. My youngest brother, Albert, drew 
her on his little wagon to the grave, which 
was dug under a large elm-tree, in a cor- 
ner of the yard. The next day I planted 
over her a shrub called the “ pussy-wil- 
low.” 

After that I had many pet kittens, but 
none that ever quite filled the place of 
poor Keturah. Yet I still have a great 
partiality for the feline race. I like noth- 


KETURAH, THE CAT. 


lo 


ing better than to sit, on a summer after- 
noon or in a winter evening, and watch the 
graceful gambols and mischievous frolics 
of a playful kitten. 

For some weeks past we have had with 
us on the sea-shore a beautiful little Vir- 
ginian girl, — one of the loveliest creatures 
alive, — who has a remarkable fondness 
for a pretty black and white kitten, belong- 
ing to the hpuse. All day long she will 
have her pet in her arms, talking to her 
when she thinks nobody is near, — telling 
her every thing, — charging her to keep 
some story to herself, as it is a very great se- 
cret, — sometimes reproving her for faults, 
or praising her for being good. Her last 
thought on going to sleep, and the first 
on waking, is this kitten. She loves her 
so fondly, that her father has promised 
that she shall take her all the way to Vir- 
ginia. We shall miss the frolicsome Idt- 
ten much, but the dear child far more. 

O, we ’ll be so sad and lonely 
In the dreary autumn weather. 


16 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


For the birds and little Mary 
Are going South together ! 
When upon the flowers of sumnaer 
Falls the cruel autumn blight, 
And the pretty face of Mary 
Has faded from our sight. 



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SAM, THE COCKEREL. 


The next pet which I remember to 
have had was a handsome cockerel, as 
gay and gallant a fellow as ever scratch- 
ed up seed-corn, or garden-seeds, for the 
young pullets. 

Sam was a foundling ; that is, he was 
cast off by an unnatural mother, who, 
from the time he was hatched, refused to 
own him. In this sad condition my fa- 
ther found him, and brought him to me. 
I took and put him in a basket of wool, 
where I kept him most of the time, for a 
week or two, feeding him regularly and 
taking excellent care of him. He grew 
and thrived, and finally became a great 
hause-pet and favorite. My father was 


18 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


especially amused by him, but my mother, 
I am sorry to say, always considered him 
rather troublesome, or, as she remarked, 
“more plague than profit.” Now I think 
of it, it must have been rather trying to 
have had him pecking at a nice loaf of 
bread, when it was set down before the 
fire to raise, and I don’t suppose that the 
print of his feet made the prettiest sort of 
a stamp for cookies and pie-crust. 

Sam was intelligent, very. I think I 
never saw a fowl turn up his eye with 
such a cunning expression after a piece of 
mischief. He showed such a real affection 
for me, that I grew excessively fond of 
him. But ah, I was more fond than wise ! 
Under my doting care, he never learnt to 
roost like other chickens. I feared that 
something dreadful might happen to him 
if he went up into a high tree to sleep ; 
so when he g;:ew too large to lie in his 
basket of wool, I used to stow him away 
very snugly in a leg of an old pair of pan- 
taloons, and lay him in a warm place un- 


SAM, THE COCKEREL. 


19 


der a corner of the wood-house. In the 
morning I had ahvays to take him out; 
and as I was not, I regret to say, a very 
early riser, the poor fellow never saw day- 
light till two or three hours after all the 
other cocks in the neighbourhood were up 
and crowing. 

After Sam was full-grown, and had a 
“ coat of many colors ” and a tail of gay 
feathers, it was really very odd and laugh- 
able to see how every evening, just at sun- 
down, he would leave all the other fowls 
with whom he had strutted and crowed 
and fought all day, and come meekly to 
me, to be put to bed in the old pantaloons. 

But one morning, one sad, dark morn- 
ing, I found him strangely still when I 
went to release him from his nightly con- 
finement. He did not flutter, nor give a 
sort of smothered crow, as he usually did. 
The leg of which I took hold to pull him 
out, seemed very cold and stiff. Alas, he 
had but one leg ! Alas, he had no head 
at all ! My poor Sam had been murdered 


20 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


and partly devoured by a cruel rat some 
time in the night ! 

I took the mangled body into the house, 
and sat down in a corner with it in my 
lap, and cried over it for a long time. It 
may seem very odd and ridiculous, but I 
really grieved for my dead pet ; for I be- 
lieved he had loved and respected me as 
much as it is in a cockerel’s heart to love 
and respect any one. I knew I had loved 
him, and I reproached myself bitterly for 
never having allowed him to learn to 
roost. 

At last, my brothers came to me, and 
very kindly and gently persuaded me to 
let Sam be buried out of my sight. They 
dug a little grave under the elm-tree, by 
the side of Keturah, laid the body down, 
wrapped in a large cabbage-leaf, filled in 
the earth, and turfed over the place. My 
brother Eufus, who knew a little Latin, 
printed on a shingle the words, “ Hie ja- 
cet Samuelus” — which mean. Here lies 
Sam, — and placed it above where the 


SAM, THE COCKEREL. 


21 


head of the unfortunate fowl should have 
been. 

I missed this pet very much; indeed, 
every body missed him after he was gone, 
and even now I cannot laugh heartily 
when I think of the morning when I 
found him dead. 

A short time after this mournful event, 
my brother Rufus, who was something of 
a poet, wrote some lines for me, which he 
called a “ Lament.” This I then thought 
a very affecting, sweet, and consoling 
poem, but I have since been inclined to 
think that my brother was making sport 
of me and my feelings all the time. I 
found this same “ Lament ” the other day 
among some old papers, and as it is quite 

a curiosity, I will let you see it : — 

• 

“ Full twenty suns have risen and set 
And eke as many moons, 

Since I found thee dead, without ahead, 

In the bloody pantaloons ! 

** As thy foe did rob thee of a leg 
In his hunger and despite, 


22 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


An L. E. G. I give to thee, 

In song, dear Sam, to-night. 

‘ Thy tail was full of feathers gay ; 
Thy comb was red and fine ; 

I hear no crow, where’er I go. 

One half so loud as thine. 

“0,1 mourn thee still, as on the morn 
When cold and stiff I found thee. 
And laid thee dead, without a head, 
The cabbage-leaf around thee ! ” 


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TOBY, THE HAWK. 


About tlie queerest pet that I ever had 
was a young hawk. My brother Kufus, 
who was a great sportsman, brought him 
home to me one night in spring. He had 
shot the mother-hawk, and found this 
young half-hedged one in the nest. I re- 
ceived the poor orphan with joy, for he 
was too small for me to feel any horror of 
him, though his family had long borne 
rather a bad name. I resolved that I 
would bring him up in the way he should 
go, so that when he was old he should 
not destroy chickens. At first, I kept 
him in a bird-cage, but after a while he 
grew too large for his quarters, and had to 
have a house built for him expressly. I 


24 : HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

let him learn to roost, but I tried to bring 
him up on vegetable diet. I found, how- 
ever, that this would not do. He eat the 
bread and grain to be sure, but he did not 
thrive ; he looked very lean, and smaller 
than hawks of his age should look. At 
last I was obliged to give up my fine idea of 
making an innocent dove, or a Grahamite, 
out of the poor fellow, and one morning 
treated him to a slice of raw mutton. I 
remember how he fiapped his wings and 
cawed with delight, and what a hearty 
meal he made of it. He grew very fat 
and glossy after this important change in 
his diet, and I became as proud of him as 
of any pet I ever had. But my mother, 
after a while, found fault with the great 
quantity of meat which he devoured. She 
said that he eat more beef-steak than any 
other member of the family. Once, when 
I was thinking about this, and feeling a 
good deal troubled lest some day, when I 
was gone to school, they at home might 
take a fancy to cut off the head of my pet 


TOBY, THE HAWK. 


25 


to save his board-bill, a bright thought 
came into my mind. There was running 
through our farm, at a short distance 
from our house, a large mill-stream, along 
the banks of which lived and croaked a 
vast multitude of frogs. These animals 
are thought by hawks, as well as French- 
men, very excellent eating. So, every 
morning, noon, and night, I took Toby on 
my shoulder, ran down to the mill-stream, 
and let him satisfy his appetite on all such 
frogs as were so silly as to stay out of the 
water and be caught. He was very quick 
and active, — would pounce upon a great, 
green croaker, and have him halved and 
quartered and hid away in a twinkling. 
I generally looked in another direction 
while he was at his meals, — it is not po- 
lite to keep your eye on people when they 
are eating, and then I couldn’t help pity- 
ing the poor frogs. But I knew that 
nawks must live, and say what they might, 
my Toby never prowled about hen-coops 
to devour young chickens. I taught him 


1^6 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


better morals than that, and kept him so 
well fed that he was never tempted to such 
wickedness. I have since thought that, if 
we want people to do right, we must treat 
them as I treated my hawk ; for when we 
think a man steals because his heart is 
full of sin, it may be only because his 
stomach is empty of food. 

When Toby had finished his meal, 
he would wipe his beak with his wing, 
mount on my shoulder, and ride home 
again ; sometimes, when it was a very 
warm day and he had dined more heartily 
than usual, he would fall asleep during 
the ride, still holding on to his place with 
his long, sharp claws. Sometimes I would 
come home with my pinafore torn and 
bloody on the shoulder, and then my mo- 
ther would scold me a little and laugh at 
me a great deal. I would blush and hang 
my head and cry, but still cling to my 
strange pet ; and when he got full grown 
and had wide, strong wings, and a great, 
crooked beak that every body else was 


TOBY, THE HAWK. 


27 


afraid of, I was still his warm friend and 
his humble servant, still carried him to 
his meals three times a day, shut him into 
his house every night, and let him out 
every morning. Such a life as that lird 
led me ! 

Toby was perfectly tame, and never at- 
tempted to fly beyond the yard. I thought 
this was because he loved me too well to 
leave me ; but my brothers, to whom he 
was rather cross, said it was because he 
was a stupid fowl. Of course they only 
wanted to tease me. I said that Toby 
was rough, but honest ; that it was true 
he did not make a display of his talents 
like some folks, but that I had faith to 
believe that, some time before he died, he 
would prove himself to them all to be a 
bird of good feelings and great intelli- 
gence. 

Finally the time came for* Toby to be 
respected as he deserved. One autumn 
night I. had him with me in the sitting-^ 
room, where I played with him and let 


28 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


him perch on my arm till it was quite late. 
Some of the neighbours were in, and the 
whole circle h'^ld ghost-stories, and talked 
about dreams, and warnings, and awful 
murders, till I was half frightened out of 
my wits ; so that, wlien I went to put my 
sleepy hawk into his little house, I really 
dared not go into the da.’-k, but stopped in 
the entry, and left him to roost for one 
night on the hat-rack, saying nothing to 
any one. Now it happened that my broth- 
er William, who was then about fourteen 
years of age, was a somnambulist, — that 
is, a person who walks in sleep. He 
would often rise in the middle of the 
night, and ramble off for miles, always re- 
turning unwaked. Sometimes he would 
take the horse from the stable, saddle and 
bridle him, and have a wild gallop in the 
moonlight. Sometimes he would drive 
the cows home from pasture, or let the 
sheep oiit of the pen. Sometimes he 
would wrap himself in a sheet, glide about 
the house, and appear at our bedside like 


TOBY, THE HAWK. 


29 


a ghost. But in the morning he had no 
recollection of these things. Of course, 
we were very anxious about him, and tried 
to keep a constant watch over him, but he 
would sometimes manage to escape from 
all our care. Well, that night there was 
suddenly a violent outcry set up in the en- 
try. It was Toby, who shrieked and flap- 
ped his wings till he woke my father, who 
dressed and went down stairs to see what 
was the matter. He found the door wide 
open, and the hawk sitting uneasily on his 
perch, looking frightened and indignant, 
with all his feathers raised. My father, at 
once suspecting what had happened, ran 
up to William’s chamber and found his 
bed empty; he then roused my elder 
brothers, and, having lit a lantern, they 
all started off in pursuit of the poor boy. 
They searched through the yard, garden, 
and orchard, but all in vain. Suddenly 
they heard the saw-mill, which stood near, 
going. They knew that the owner never 
worked there at night, and supposed that 


30 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


it must be my brother, who had set the 
machinery in motion. So down they ran 
as fast as possible, and, sure enough, they 
found him there, all by himself. A large 
log had the night before been laid in its 
place ready for the morning, and on that 
log sat my brother, his large black eyes 
staring wide open, yet seeming to be fixed 
on nothing, and his face as pale as death. 
He seemed to have quite lost himself, for 
the end of the log on which he sat was 
fast approaching the saw. My father, with 
great presence of mind, stopped the ma- 
chinery, while one of my brothers caught 
William and pulled him from his perilous 
place. Another moment, and he would 
have been killed or horribly mangled by 
the cruel saw. With a terrible scream, 
that was heard to a great distance, poor 
William awoke. He cried bitterly when 
he found where he was and how he came 
there. He was much distressed by it foi 
some time ; but' it was a very good thing 
for all that; for he never walked in his sleep 
again. 


TOBY, THE HAWK. 


31 


As you would suppose, Toby, received 
much honor for so promptly giving the 
warning on that night. Every body now 
acknowledged that he was a hawk of great 
talents, as well as talons. But alas ! he 
did not live long to enjoy the respect of 
his fellow-citizens. One afternoon that 
very autumn, I was sitting at play with 
my doll, under the thick shade of a ma- 
ple-tree, in front of the house. On the 
fence near by sat Toby, lazily pluming his 
wing, and enjoying the pleasant, golden 
sunshine, — now and then glancing round 
at me with a most knowing and patron- 
izing look. Suddenly, there was the sharp 
crack of a gun fired near, and Toby fell 
fluttering to the ground. A stupid sports- 
man had taken him for a wild hawk, and 
shot him in the midst of his peaceful and 
innocent enjoyment. He was wounded in 
a number of places, and was dying fast 
when I reached him. Yet he seemed to 
know me, and looked up into my face so 
piteously, that I sat down by him, as I 


82 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

had sat down by poor Keturah, and cried 
aloud. Soon the sportsman, who was a 
stranger, came leaping over the fence to 
bag his game. When he found what he 
had done, he said he was very sorry, and 
stooped down to examine the wounds 
made by his shot. Then Toby roused 
himself, and caught one of his fingers in 
his beak, biting it almost to the bone. 
The man cried out with the pain, and tried 
to shake him off, but Toby still held on 
fiercely and stoutly, and held on till he 
was dead. • Then his rufiled wing grew 
smooth, his head fell back, his beak part- 
ed and let go the bleeding finger of his 
enemy. 

I did not want the man hurt, for he 
had shot my pet under a mistake, but I 
was not sorry to see Toby die like a hero. 
We laid him with the pets who had gone 
before. Some w^ere lovelier in their lives, 
but none more lamented when dead. 1 
will venture to say that he was the first 
of his race who ever departed with a clean 


TOBY, THE HAAVK. 


33 


conscience as regarded poultry. No care- 
ful mother-hen cackled with delight on 
the day he died, — no pert young rooster 
flapped his wings and crowed over his 
graA’e. But I must say, I don’t think tliat 
the frogs mourned for him. I thought that 
they Avere holding a jubilee that night; 
the old ones croaked so loud, and the 
young ones sung so merrily, that I wished 
the noisy green creatures all quietly doing 
brown, on some Frenchman’s gridiron. 


MILLY, THE PONY, AND CARLO, 
* THE DOG. 


When I was ten or eleven years of age, 
I had two pets, of which I was equally 
fond, a gentle bay pony and a small 
pointer dog. I have always had a great 
affection for horses, and never kncAV Avhat 
it W’as to be afraid of them, for they are 
to me exceedingly obliging and obedient. 
Some people think that I control them 
with a sort of animal magnetism. I only 
know that I treat them with Mndness^ 
which is, I believe, after all, the only mag- 
netism necessary for one to use in this 
world. When I ride, I give my horse to 
understand that I expect him to behave 
very handsomely, like the gentleman I 


. V 



% 



t 


'A 


r 9 



MILLY AND CARLO. 




take him co be, and he never disappoints 
me. 

Our Milly was a great favorite with all 
the family, but with the children especial- 
ly. She was not very handsome or re- 
markably fleet, but was easily managed, 
and even in her gait. I loved her dearly, 
and we were on the best terms with each 
other. I was in the habit of going into 
the pasture where she fed, mounting her 
from the fence or a stump, and riding 
about the field, often without saddle or bri- 
dle. You will see by this that I was a sad 
romp. Milly seemed to enjoy the sport 
fully as much as I, and would arch her 
neck, and toss her mane, and gallop up and 
down the little hills in the pasture, now 
and then glancing round at me playfully, 
as much as to say, “Aint we having 
times ! ” 

Finally, I began to practise riding stand- 
ing upright, as I had seen the circus per- 
formers do, for I thought it was time I 
should do something to distinguish my- 


30 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


self. After a few tumbles on to the soft 
clover, wlii(^h did me no sort of harm, I 
became quite accomplished that way. I 
was at that age as quick and active as a 
cat, and could save myself from a fall af- 
ter I had lost my balance, and seemed half- 
way to the ground. I remember that my 
brother William was very ambitious to 
rival me in my exploits ; but as he was 
unfortunately rather fat and heavy, he did 
a greater business in turning somersets 
from the bacL of the pony than in any 
other way. But these were quite as amus- 
ing as any other part of the performances. 
We sometimes had quite a good audi- 
ence -of the neighbours’ children, and our 
schoolmates, but we never invited our 
parents to attend the exhibition. We 
thought that on some accounts it was best 
they should know nothing about it. 

In addition to the “ ring performances,” 
I gave riding lessons tc my youngest broth- 
er, Albert, who was then quite a little 
boy. He used to mount Milly behind 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


37 


me, and behind him always sat one of onr 
chief pets, and our constant pla}Tnate, 
Carlo, a small black and white pointer. 
One afternoon, I remember, we were all 
riding down the long, shady lane which 
led from the pasture to the house, when a 
mischievous boy sprang suddenly out from 
a corner of the fence, and shouted at Mil- 
ly. I never knew her frightened before, 
but this time she gave a loud snort, and 
reared up almost straight in the air. As 
there w^as neither saddle nor bridle for us 
to hold on by, we all three slid off back- 
ward into the dust, or rather the mud, for 
it had been raining that afternoon. Poor 
Carlo was most hurt, as my brother and I 
fell on him. He set up a terrible yelping, 
and my little brother cried somewhat from 
fright. Milly turned and looked at us a 
moment to see how much harm was done, 
and then started off at full speed after the 
boy, chasing him down the lane. He ran 
like a fox when he heard Milly galloping 
fast behind him, and when he looked 


38 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


round and saw her close upon him, with 
her ears laid back, her mouth open, and 
her long mane flying in the wind, he 
screamed with terror, and dropped as 
though he were dead. She did not stop, 
hut leaped clear over him as he lay on 
the ground. Then she turned, went up 
to him, quietly lifted the old straw hat 
from his head, and came trotting back to 
us, swinging it in her teeth. We thought 
chat was a very cunning trick of Milly’s. 

Now it happened that I had on that 
day a nice new dress, which I had sadly 
soiled by my fall from the pony ; so that 
when I reached home, my mother was 
greatly displeased. I suppose I made a 
very odd appearance. I was swinging my 
bonnet in my hand, for I had a natural 
dislike to any sort of covering for the 
head. My thick, dark hair had become 
unh raided and was blowing over my eyes. 
T was never very fair in complexion, and 
my face, neck, and arms had become com- 
oletely browned by that summer’s expos- 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


39 


lire. My mother took me by the shoul- 
der, set me down in a chair, not very 
gently, and looked at me with a real frown 
on her sweet face. She told me in plain 
terms that I was an idle, careless child! 
I put my finger in one corner of my 
mouth, and swung my foot back and forth. 
She said I was a great romp ! I pouted 
my lip, and drew down my black eye- 
brows. She said I was more like a wild, 
young squaw, than a white girl! Now 
this was too much ; it was what I called 
‘‘ twitting upon facts ” ; and ’t was not the 
first time that the delicate question of my 
complexion had been touched upon with- 
out due regard fq;.’ my feelings. I was not 
to blame for being dark, — I did not make 
myself, — I had seen fairer women than my 
mother. I felt that what she said was 
neither more nor less than an insult, and 
when she went out to see about supper, 
and left me alone, I brooded over hei 
words, growing more and more out of hu- 
mor, till my naughty heart became so hot 


40 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


and big with anger, that it almost choked 
me. At last, I bit my lip and looked very 
stern, for I had made up my mind to some- 
thing great. Before I let you know what 
this was, I must tell you that the Onon- 
daga tribe of Indians had their village not 
many miles from us. Every few months, 
parties of them came about with baskets 
and mats to sell. A company of five or 
six had been to our house that very morn- 
ing, and I knew that they had their en- 
campment in our woods, about half a mile 
distant. These I knew very well, and 
had quite a liking for them, never think- 
ing of being afraid of them, as they al- 
ways seemed kind and peaceable. 

To them I resolved to go in my trouble. 
They would teach me to weave baskets, 
to fish, and to shoot with the bow and ar- 
row. They would not make me study, nor 
wear bonnets, and they would never find 
fault with my dark complexion. 

I remember to this day how softly and 
slyly I slid out of the house that evening. 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


41 


I never stopped once, nor looked round, 
but ran swiftly till I reached the woods. 
I did not know which way to go to find 
the encampment, but wandered about in 
the gathering darkness, till I saw a light 
glimmering through the trees at some dis- 
tance. I made my way through the bushes 
and brambles, and after a while came up- 
on my copper-colored friends. In a very 
pretty place, down in a hollow, they had 
built them some wigwams with maple 
saplings, covered with hemlock-boughs. 
There were in the group two Indians, two 
squaws, and a boy about fourteen years 
old. But I must not forget the baby, or 
rather pappoose, who was lying in a sort 
of cradle, made of a large, hollow piece 
of bark, which was hung from the branch 
of a tree, by pieces of the wild grape-vine. 
The young squaw, its mother, was swing- 
ing it back and forth, now far into the 
dark shadow’s of the pine and hemlock, 
now out into the warm fire-light, and 
chanting to the child some Indian lullaby. 
4 


42 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


The men sat on a log, smoking gravely 
and silently; while the boy lay on the 
ground, playing lazily with a great yellow 
hound, which looked mean and starved, 
like all Indian dogs. The old squaw was 
cooking the supper in a large iron pot, over 
a fire built among a pile of stones. 

For some time, I did not dare to go for- 
ward, but at last I went up to the old 
squaw, and looking up into her good-hu- 
mored face, said, “ I am come to live 
with you, and learn to make baskets, for I 
don’t like my home.” She did not say 
any thing to me, but made some exclama- 
tion in her own language, and the others 
came crowding round. The boy laughed, 
shook me by the hand, and said I was a 
brave girl ; but the old Indian grinned 
horribly and laid his hand on my forehead, 
saying, “What a pretty head to scalp!” 
I screamed and hid my face in the young 
squaw’s blue cloth skirt. She spoke sooth- 
ingly, and told me not to be afraid, for 
nobody would hurt me. She then took 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


43 


me to her wigwam, where I sat down and 
tried to make myself at home. But some- 
how I did’nt feel quite comfortable. After 
a while, the old squaw took off the pot, 
and called us to supper. This was sucoo- 
tash, that is, a dish of corn and beans, 
cooked with salt pork. We all sat down 
on the ground near the fire, and eat out of 
great wooden bowls, with wooden spoons, 
which I must say tasted rather too strong 
of the pine. But I did not say so then, — 
by no means, — but eat a great deal more 
than I wanted, and pretended to relish it, 
for fear they would think me ill bred. I 
would not have had them know but what 
I thought their supper served in the very 
best style, and by perfectly polite and gen- 
teel people. I was a little shocked, how- 
ever, by one incident during the meal. 
While the young squaw was helping her 
husband for the third or fourth time, she 
accidentally dropped a little of the hot 
succotash on his hand. He growled out 
like a dog, and struck her across the 


44 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


face with his spoon. I thought that she 
showed a most Christian spirit, for she 
hung her head and did not say any thing. 
I had heard of white wives behaving 
worse. 

When supper was over, the boy came 
and laid down at my feet, and talked with 
me about living in the woods. He said 
he pitied the poor white people for being 
shut up in houses all their days. For his 
part, he should die of such a dull life, he 
knew he should. He promised to teach 
me how to shoot with the bow and arrows, 
to snare partridges and rabbits, and many 
other things. He said he was afraid I 
was almost spoiled by living in the house 
and going to school, but he hoped that, if 
they took me away and gave me a new 
, name, and dressed me properly, they 
might make something of me yet. Then 
I asked him what he was called, hoping 
that he had some grand Indian name, like 
Uncas, or Miantonimo, or Tushmalaliah ; 
but he said it was Peter. He was a pleas- 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


45 


ant fellow, and while he was talking with 
me I did not care about my home, but 
felt very brave and squaw-like, and bpgan 
to think about the fine belt of wampum, 
and the head-dress of gay feathers, and 
the red leggins, and the yellow moccasons 
I was going to buy for myself, with the 
baskets I was going to learn to weave. 
But when he left me, and I went back to 
the wigwam and sat down on the hemlock 
boughs by myself, somehow I couldn’t 
Tceep home out of my mind. I thought 
first of my mother, how she would miss 
the little brown face at the supper-table, 
and on the pillow, by the fair face of my- 
blue-eyed sister. I thought of my young 
brother, Albert, crying himself to sleep, 
because I was lost. I thought of my fa- 
ther and brothers searching through the 
orchard and barn, and going with lights 
to look in the mill-stream. Again, I 
thought of my mother, how, when she 
feared I was drowned, she would cry bit- 
terly, and be very sorry for what she had 


46 


HISTORY OP MY PETS. 


said about my dark complexion. Then 1 
thought of myself, how I must sleep on 
the hard ground, with nothing but hem- 
lock-boughs for covering, and nobody to 
tuck me up. What if it should storm be- 
fore morning, and the high tree above me 
should be struck by lightning ! What if 
the old Indian should not be a tame sav - 
age after all, but ’should take a fancy to 
set up the war-whoop, and come and scalp 
me in the middle of the night ! 

The bell in the village church rang for 
nine. This was the hour for evening de- 
votions at home. I looked round to see 
if my new friends were preparing for wor- 
ship. But the old Indian was already fast 
asleep, and as for the younger one, I feared 
that a man who indulged himself in beat- 
ing his wife with a wooden spoon would 
hardly be likely to lead in family prayers. 
Upon the whole, I concluded I was among 
rather a heathenish set. Then I thought 
again of home, and doubted whether they 
would have any family worship that night, 


MILLY AND CARLO. 


47 


with one lamb of the flock gone astray. 
I thought of all their grief and fears, till I 
felt that my heart would burst with sor- 
row and repentance, for I dared not cry 
aloud. 

Suddenly, I heard a familiar sound at a 
little distance, — it was Carlo’s bark ! 
Nearer and nearer it came ; then I heard 
steps coming fast through the crackling 
brushwood, then little Carlo sprang out 
of the dark into the fire-light, and leaped 
upon me, licking my hands with joy. He 
was followed by one of my elder brothers, 
and by my mother! To her I ran. I 
dared not look in her eyes, but hid my 
face in her bosom, sobbing out, “ O moth- 
er, forgive me ! forgive me ! ” She pressed 
me to her heart, and bent down and 
kissed me very tenderly, and when she 
did so, I felt the tears on her dear cheek. 

I need hardly say that I never again 
undertook to make an Onondaga squaw 
of myself, though my mother always held 
that I was dark enough to be one, and 1 


48 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


suppose the world would still bear her out 
in her opinion. 

I am sorry to tell the fate of the faith- 
ful dog who tracked me out on that night, 
though his story is not quite so sad as that 
of some of my pets. A short time after 
this event, my brother Charles was going 

to the city of S , some twenty miles 

away, and wished to take Carlo for com- 
pany. I let him go very reluctantly, 
charging my brother to take good and 
constant care of him. The last time I 
ever saw Carlo’s honest, good-natured face, 
it was looking out at me through the 
window of the carriage. The last times 
for he never came back to us, but was lost 
in the crowded streets of S . 

He was a simple, country-bred pointer, 
and, like many another poor dog, was be- 
wildered by the new scenes and pleasures 
of the city, forgot his guide, missed his 
* way, wandered off, and was never found. 


CORA, THE SPANIEL. 


The pet which took little Carlo’s place 
in our home and hearts was a pretty, 
chestnut-colored water-spaniel, named Co- 
ra. She was a good, affectionate creature, 
and deserved all our love. The summer 
that we had her for our playmate, my 
brother Albert, my sister Carrie, and I, 
spent a good deal of time down about the 
pond, in \vatching her swimming, and all 
her merry gambols in the water. There 
grev/, out beyond the reeds and flags of 
ill at pond, a few beautiful, white water- 
lilies, which we taught her to bite off and 
bring to us on shore. 

Cora seemed to love us very much, but 
there was one -whom she loved even more. 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


fiO 

This was little Charlie Allen, a pretty boy 
of about four or five years old, the only 
son of a widow, who was a tenant of my 
father, and lived in a small house on our 
place. There grew up a great and tender 
friendship between this child and our Cora, 
who was always with him' while we were 
at school. The two would play and run 
about for hours, and when they were tired, 
lie down and sleep together in the shade. 
It was a pretty sight, I assure you, for 
both were beautiful. 

It happened that my father, one morn- 
ing, took Cora with him to the village, 
and was gone nearly all day; so little 
Charlie was without his playmate and pro- 
tector. But after school, my sister, broth- 
er, and I called Cora, and ran down to 
the pond. We were to have a little com- 
pany that night, and wanted some of those 
fragrant, white lilies for our fiower-vase. 
Cora barked and leaped upon us, and ran 
round and round us all the way. Soon 
as she reached the pond, she sprang in 


CORA, THE SPANIEL. 


51 


and swam out to where the lilies grew, 
and where she was hid from our sight by 
the flags and other water-plants. Pres- 
ently, we heard her barking and whining, 
as though in great distress. We called 
to her again and again, but she did not 
come out for some minutes. At last, she 
came through the flags, swimming slowly 
along, dragging something by her teeth. 
As she swam near, we saw that it was a 
child, — little Charlie Allen! We then 
waded out as far as we dared, met Cora, 
took her burden from her, end drew it 
to the shore. As soon as we took little 
Charlie in our arms, we knew that he was 
dead. He was cold as ice, his eyes were 
flxed in his head, and had no light in 
them. His hand was stiff and blue, and 
still held tightly three water-lilies, which 
he had plucked. We suppose the poor 
child slipped from a log, on which he had 
gone out for the flowers, and which was 
half under water. 

Of course we children were dreadfully 


52 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

frightened. My brother was half beside 
himself, and ran screaming up home, while 
my sister almost flew for Mrs. Allen. 

O, I never shall forget the grief of that 
poor woman, when she came to the spot 
where her little dead boy lay ! — how she 
threw herself ^n the ground beside him, 
and folded him close in her arms, and tried 
to warm him with her tears and her kisses, 
and tried to breathe her own breath into 
his still, cold lips, and tried to make him 
hear by calling, “ Charlie, Charlie, speak 
to mamma ! speak to your poor mamma ! ” 

But Charlie did not see her, nor feel 
her, nor hear her any more ; and when 
she found that he was indeed gone from 
her for ever, she gave the most fearful 
shriek I ever heard, and fell back as 
though she were dead. 

By this time, my parents and a number 
of the neighbours had reached the spot, 
and they carried Mrs. Allen and her 
drowned boy home together, through the 
twilight. Poor Cora follo'wed close to 


CORA, THE SPANIEL, 


53 


the body of Charlie, whining piteously all 
the way. That night, we could not get 
her out of the room where it was placed, 
but she watched there until morjiing. 

Ah, how sweetly little Charlie looked 
when he was laid out the next day ! His 
beautiful face had lost the dark look that 
it wore when he was first taken from the 
water ; his pretty brown hair lay in close 
ringlets all around his white forehead. 
One hand was stretched at his side, the 
other was laid across his breast, still' hold- 
ing the water-lilies. He was not dressed 
in a shroud, but in white trousers, and a 
pretty little spencer of pink gingham. 
He did not look dead, but sleeping, and 
he seemed to smile softly, as though he 
had a pleasant dream in his heart. 

Widow Allen had one other child, a year 
younger than Charlie, whose name was 
Mary, but who always called herself “ Lit- 
tle May.” O, it would have made you cry 
to have seen her when she was brought 
to look on her dead brother. She laughed 


54 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


at first, and put her small fingers on his 
shut eyes, trying to open them, and said, 
“ AVake up Charlie ! wake up, and come 
play out doors, with little May ! ” But 
when she found that those eyes would 
not unclose, and when she felt how cold 
that face was, she was grieved and fright- 
ened, and ran to hide her face in her 
mother’s lap, where she cried and trem- 
bled ; for though she could not know what 
death was, she felt that something awful 
had happened in the house. 

But Cora’s sorrow was also sad to see 
When the body of Charlie was carried to 
the grave, she followed close to the coffin, 
and when it was let down into the grave, 
she leaped in and laid down upon it, and 
growled and struggled when the men took 
her out. Every day after that, she would 
go to that grave, never missing the spot, 
though there were many other little 
mounds in the old church-yard. She 
would lie beside it for hours, patiently 
waiting, it seemed, for her young friend to 


CORA, THE SPANIEL. 


55 


awake and come out into the sunshine, 
and run about and play with her as he 
was used to do. Sometimes she would 
dig a little way into the mound, and bark, 
or whine, and then listen for the voice of 
Charlie to answer. But that voice never 
came, though the faithful Cora listened 
and waited and pined for it, through 
many days. She ate scarcely any thing ; 
she would not play with us now, nor could 
we persuade her to go into the pond. 
Alas ! that fair, sweet child, pale and drip- 
ping from the water, was the last lily she 
ever brought ashore. She grew so thin, 
and weak, and sick, at last, that she could 
hardly drag herself to the grave. But 
still she went there every day. One even- 
ing, she did not come home, and my 
brother and I went down for her. When 
we reached the church-yard, we passed 
along very carefully, for fear of treading 
on some grave, and spoke soft and low, 
as children should always do in such 
places. Sometimes we stopped to read 


56 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


the long inscriptions on handsome tomb- 
stones, and to wonder why so many great 
and good people were taken away. Some- 
times we pitied the poor dead people who 
had no tombstones at all, because their 
friends could not afford to raise them, or 
because they had been too wicked them- 
selves to have their praises printed in 
great letters, cut in white marble, and put 
up in the solemn burying-ground, where 
nobody would ever dare to write or say 
any thing but the truth. When we came 
in sight of Charlie’s gravQ, we talked 
about him. We wondered if he thought 
of his mother, and cried out any when he 
was drowning. We thought that he must 
have growm very weary with struggling in 
the water, and we wondered if he was 
resting now, sleeping do^\m there wdth. his 
lilies. We said that perhaps his soul was 
awake all the time, and that, when he was 
drowned, it did not fly right away to 
heaven, with the angels, to sing hymns, 
while his poor mother was weeping, but 


CORA, THE SPAHIEL. 


57 


stayed about the place, and somehow com- 
forted her, and made her think of God 
and heaven, even when she lay awake in 
the night, to mourn for her lost boy. 

So talking, we came up to the grave. 
Cora was lying on the mound, where the 
grass had now grown green and long. 
She seemed to be asleep, and not to hear 
our steps or our voices. My brother spoke 
to her pleasantly, and patted her on the 
head. But she did not move. I bent 
down and looked into her face. She was 
quite dead ! 


JACK, THE DRAKE. 


I HAVE hesitated a great deal about 
writing the history of this pet, for his lit- 
tle life Avas only a chapter of accidents, 
and you may think it very silly. Still, I 
hope you may have a little interest in it 
after all, and that your kind hearts may 
feel for poor Jack, for he was good and 
was unfortunate. 

It happened that once, during a walk in 
the fields, I found a duck’s egg right in 
my path. We had then no ducks in our 
farm-yard, and I thought it would be a 
fine idea to have one for a pet. So I 
wrapped the egg in wool, and put it into a 
basket, which I hung in a warm corner 
by the kitchen-fire. My brothers laughed 


JACK, THE DRAKE. 


59 


at me, saying that the egg would never be 
any thing more than an egg, if left there ; 
but I had faith to believe that I should 
some time see a fine duckling peeping out 
of the shell, very much to the astonish- 
ment of all unbelieving boys. I used to 
go to the basket, lift up the wool and look 
at that little blue-hued treasure three or 
four times a day, or take it out and hold 
it against my bosom, and breathe upon it 
in anxious expectation; until I began to 
think that a watched egg never would 
hatch. But my tiresome suspense finally 
came to a happy end. At about the -time 
when, if he had had a mother, she would 
have been looking for him, Jack, the 
drake, presented his bill to the world that 
owed him a living. He came out as 
plump and hearty a little fowl as could 
reasonably have been expected. But what 
to do with him was the question. After 
a while, I concluded to take him to a hen 
who had just hatched a brood of chick- 
ens, thinking that, as he was a friendless 


60 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


orphan, she might adopt him for charity’s 
sake. But Biddy was already like the cel- 
ebrated 

“ Old woman that lived in a shoe, 
Who had so many children she didn’t know what to do.” 

With thirteen little ones of her own, and 
living in a small and rather an inconven- 
ient coop, it was no wonder that she felt 
unwilling to have any addition to her fam- 
ily. But she might have declined civilly. 
I am afraid she was a sad vixen, for no 
sooner did she see the poor duckling 
among her chickens, than she strode up 
to him, and with one peck tore the skin 
from his head, — scalped him, — the old 
savage ! I rescued Jack from her as 
soon as possible, and dressed his wound 
with lint as well as I could, for I felt 
something like a parent to the fowl my- 
self He recovered after a while, but, 
unfortunately, no feathers grew again on 
his head, — he ^vas always quite bald, — 
which gave him an appearance of great 
age. I once tried to remedy this evil by 


JACK, THE DRAKE.- 


61 


sticking some feathers on to his head with 
tar ; but, line all other wigs, it deceived 
no one, only making him look older and 
queerer than ever. What made the mat- 
ter worse was, that I had selected some 
long and very bright feathers, which stood 
up so bold on his head that the other 
fowls resented it, and pecked at the poor 
wig till they pecked it all off. 

AVhile Jack was yet young, he one day 
fell into the cistern, which had been left 
open. Of course he could not get out, 
and he soon tired of swimming, I suppose, 
and sunk. At least, when he was drawn 
up, he looked as though he had been in 
the water a long time, and seemed quite 
dead. Yet, hoping to revive him, I placed 
him in his old basket of wool, which. I set 
down on the hearth. He did indeed come 
to life, but the first thing the silly creature 
did on leaving his nest was to run into 
the midst of the fire, and before I could 
get him out, he was very badly burned. 
He recovered from this also, but with bare 


62 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


spots all over his body. In his tail there 
never afterwards grew more than three 
short feathers. But his trials w^ere not 
over yet. After he was full-grown, he 
was once found fast by one leg in a great 
iron rat-trap. When he was released, his 
leg was found to be broken. But my 
brother William, who was then inclined to 
be a doctor, which he has since become, 
and who had watched my father during 
surgical operations, splintered and bound 
up the broken limb, and kept the patient 
under a barrel for a week, so that he 
should not attempt to use it. At the end 
of that time. Jack could get about a little, 
but with a very bad limp, which .he never 
got over. But as the duck family never 
had the name of walking very handsome- 
ly, that was no great matter. 

After all these accidents and mishaps, I 
hardly need tell you that Jack had little 
beauty to boast of, or plume himself upon. 
He was in truth sadly disfigured, — about 
the ugliest fowl possible to meet in a long 


JACK, THE DRAKE. 


63 


day’s journey. Indeed, he used to be 
shown up to people as a curiosity on ac- 
count of his ugliness. 

I remember a little city girl coming to 
see me that summer. She talked a great 
deal about her fine wax-dolls with rolling 
eyes and jointed legs, her white, curly 
French lap-dog, and, best and prettiest of 
every thing, her beautiful yellow canary- 
bird, which sung and sung all the day long. 
I grew almost dizzy with hearing of such 
grand and wonderful things, and sat with 
my mouth wide open to swallow her great 
stories. At last, she turned to me and 
asked, with a curl of her pretty red lips, 
“ Have you no pet-birds, little girl 1 ” 
Now, she always called me “little girl,” 
though I was a year older and a head 
taller than she. I replied, “ Yes, I have 
one,” and led the way to the back-yard, 
where I introduced her to Jack. I 
thought I should have died of laughter 
when she came to see him. Such faces as 
she made up ! 

T «TYi fiovry to say, that the other fowls 


64 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


ill the yard, from the oldest hen down to 
the rooster without spurs, and even to the 
green goslings, seemed to see and feel 
Jack’s want of personal pretensions and 
attractions, and always treated him with 
marked contempt, not to say cruelty. The 
little chickens followed him about, peep- 
ing and cackling with derision, very much 
as the n^Iughty children of the old Bible 
times mocked at the good, bald-headed 
prophet. But jioor Jack did n’t have it in 
his power to punish the ill-mannered crea- 
tures as Elisha did those saucy children, 
when he called the hungry she-bears to 
put a stop to their wicked fun. In fact, I 
don’t think he would have done so if he 
could, for all this hard treatment never 
made him angry or disobliging. He had 
an excellent temper, and was ahvays meek 
and quiet, though there was a melancholy 
hang to his bald head, and his three lone- 
some tail-feathers drooped sadly toward 
the ground. When he was ever so lean 
and hungry, he would gallantly give up 
his dinner to the plump, glossy-breasted 


JACK, THE DRAKE. 


65 


pullets, though they would put on lofty 
airs, step lightly, eye him scornfully, and 
seem to be making fun of his queer looks 
all the time. He took every thing so kind- 
ly ! He was like a few, a very few people 
we meet, who, the uglier they grow, the 
more goodness they have at heart, and the 
worse the world treats them, the better 
they are to it. 

But Jack had one true friend. I liked 
him, and more than once defended him 
from cross old hens, and tyrannical cocks. 
But perhaps my love was too much mixed 
up with pity for him to have felt highly 
complimented by it. Yet he seemed to 
cherish a great affection for me, and to look 
up to me as his guardian and protector. 

As you have seen. Jack was always get- 
ting into scrapes, and at last he got into 
one which even I could not get him out 
of He one day rashly swam out into the 
mill-pond, which was then very high, from 
a freshet, and which carried him over the 
dam, where, as he was a very delicate fowl, 
6 


66 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


he was drowned, or his neck was broken, 
by the great rush and tumble of the wa- 
ter. I have sometimes thought that it 
might be that he was tired of life, and 
grieved by the way the world had used 
him, and so put an end to himself. But 
I hope it was not so ; for, with all his 
oddities and misfortunes. Jack seemed 
too sensible for that. 

ELEGY. 

Alas, poor lame, bald-headed Jack ! 

None mourned when he was dead, 

And for the sake of her drowned drake 
No young duck hung her head ! 

The old cocks said they saw him go, 

Yet did not call him back. 

For a death from hydropathy 
Was a fit death for a quack. 

The cockerels said, “ Well, that poor fowl 
Is gone, — who cares a penny 1 ” 

And guessed he found that last deep dive 
Was one duck-in too many. 

The heartless pullets saw him. 

Yet raised no warning cries, 

As he swam o’er the dam. 

And w”ds drowned before their eyes ! 




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HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND. 


Hector was the favorite hound of my 
brother Rufus, who was extremely fond 
of him, for he was one of the most beau- 
tiful creatures ever seen, had an amiable 
disposition, and was very intelligent. You 
would scarcely believe me, should I tell 
you all his accomplishments and cunning 
tricks. If one gave him a piece of money, 
he would take it in his mouth and run at 
once to the baker, or butcher, for his din- 
ner. He was evidently fond of music, 
and even seemed to have an ear for it, 
and he would dance away merrily when- 
ever he saw dancing. He was large and 
strong, and in the winter, I remember, we 
used to harness him to a little sleigh, on 


08 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

which he drew my youngest brother to 
school. As Hector was as fleet as the 
wind, this sort of riding was rare sport. 
At night we had but to start him off, and 
he would go directly to the school-house 
for his little master. Ah, Hector was a 
wonderful dog ! 

A few miles from our house, there was 
a pond, or small lake, very deep and dark, 
and surrounded by a swampy wood. Here 
my brothers used to go duck-shooting, 
though it was rather dangerous sport, as 
most of the shore of the pond was a soft 
bog, but thinly grown over with grass and 
weeds. It was s^id that cattle had been 
known to sink in it, and disappear in a 
short time. 

One night during the hunting season, 
one of my elder brothers brought a friend 
home with him, a fine, handsome young 
fellow, named Charles Ashley. It was ar 
ranged that they should shoot ducks about 
the pond the next day. So in the morn- 
ing they all set out in high spirits. In 


HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND. 6J 

the forenoon they had not much luck, as 
they kept too much together ; but in the 
afternoon they separated, my brothers giv- 
ing their friend warning to beware of 
getting into the bogs. But Ashley was a 
wild, imprudent young man, and once, 
having shot a tine large duck, which fell 
into the pond near the shore, and Hector, 
who was with him, refusing to go into the 
water for it, he ran down himself Before 
he reached the edge of the water, he was 
over his ankles in mire; then, turning 
to go back, he sunk to his knees, and in 
another moment ho was waist-high in the 
bog, and quite unable to help himself He 
laid his gun down, and, fortunately, could 
rest one end of it on a little knoll of firmer 
earth ; but he still sunk slowly, till he was 
in up to his arm-pits. Of course, he called 
and shouted for help as loud as possible, 
but my brothers were at such a distance 
that they did not hear him so as to know 
his voice. But Hector, after looking at 
him in his sad fix a moment, started off on 


70 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


a swift run, which soon brought him to his 
master. My brother said that the dog then 
began to whine, and run back and forth in 
a most extraordinary manner, until he set 
out to follow him to the scene of the ac- 
cident. Hector dashed on through the 
thick bushes, as though he were half dis- 
tracted, every few moments turning back 
with wild cries to hurry on his master. 
When my brother came up to where his 
friend was fixed in the mire, he could see 
nothing of him at first. Then he heard a 
faint voice calling him, and, looking down 
near the water, he saw a pale face looking 
up at him from the midst of the black 
bog. He has often said that it was the 
strangest sight that he ever saw. Poor 
Ashley’s arms, and the fowling-piece he 
held, were now beginning to disappear, 
and in a very short time he would have 
sunk out of sight for ever ! Only to think 
of such an awful death! My brother, 
who had always great presence of mind, 
lost no time in bending down a young tree 


hectok, the greyhound. 


71 


from the bank where he stood, so that 
Ashley could grasp it, and in that way be 
drawn up, for, as you see, it would not 
have been safe for him to go down to 
where his friend sunk. When Ashley 
had taken a firm hold of the sapling, my 
brother let go of it, and it sprung hack, 
pulling up the young man without much 
exertion on his part. Ashley was, how- 
ever, greatly exhausted with fright and 
struggling, and lay for some moments on 
the bank, feeling quite unable to walk. 
As soon as he was strong enough, he set 
out for home with my brother, stopping 
very often to rest and shake off the thick 
mud, which actually weighed heavily upon 
him. I never shall forget how he looked 
when he came into the yard about sunset. 
O, what a rueful and ridiculous figure he 
cut ! We could none of us keep from 
laughing, though we were frightened at 
first, and sorry for our guest’s misfortune. 
But after he was dressed in a dry suit of 
my brother’s, he looked funnier than ever, 


72 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


for he was a tall, rather large person, and 
the dress was too small for him every way 
Yet he laughed as heartily as any of us^ 
for he was very good-natured and merry. 
It seems to me I can see him now, as he 
walked about with pantaloons half way 
up to his knees, coat-sleeves coming a little 
below the elbows, and vest that would n’t 
meet at all, and told us queer Yankee 
stories, and sung songs, and jested and 
laughed all the evening. But once, I re- 
member, I saw him go out on to the door- 
step, where Hector was lying, kneel dowr 
beside the faithful dog, and actually hug 
him to his breast. 

When not hunting with his maste: 
Hector went with Albert and me in ah 
our rambles, berrying and nutting. We 
could hardly be seen without him, and we 
loved him almost as we loved one another. 

One afternoon in early spring, we had 
been into the woods for wild-ilowers. 1 
remember that I had my apron tilled with 
the sweet claytonias, and the gay trilliums. 


HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND. 


73 


and the pretty white flowers of the san- 
guinaria, or “ blood-root,” and hosts and 
handfuls of the wild violets, yellow and 
blue. My brother had taken off his cap 
and filled it with beautiful green mosses, 
all lit up with the bright red squaw- 
berry. We had just entered the long, 
shady lane which ran down to the house, 
and were talking and laughing very mer- 
rily, when we saw a crowd of men and 
boys running toward us and shouting as 
they ran. Before them was a large, broAvn 
bull-dog, that, as he came near, we saw 
was foaming at the mouth. Then w'e 
heard what the men were crying. It was, 
Mad dog I ” 

My brother and I stopped and clung to 
each other in great trouble. Hector stood 
before us and growled. The dog was al- 
ready so near that we saw we could not es- 
cape ; he came right at us, with his dread- 
ful frothy mouth wide open. He was just 
upon us, when Hector caught him by the 
throat, and the two rolled on the ground, 
7 


74 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


biting and struggling. But presently one 
of the men came up and struck the mad 
dog on the head with a large club, — so 
stunned him and finally killed him. But 
Hector, poor Hector, was badly bitten in 
the neck and breast, and all the men said 
that he must die too, or he would go mad. 
One of the neighbours w^ent home with 
us, and told my father and elder brothers 
all about it. They were greatly troubled, 
but promised that, for the safety of the 
neighbourhood. Hector should be shot in 
the morning. I remember how, while they 
were talking. Hector lay on the door-step 
licking his wounds, every now and then 
looking round, as if he thought that there 
was some trouble which he ought to un- 
derstand. 

I shall never, never forget how I grieved 
that night ! I heard the clock strike ten, 
eleven, and twelve, as I lay awake weep- 
ing for my dear playfellow and noble pre- 
seiwer, who was to die in the morning. 
Hector was sleeping in the next room, and 


HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND. 


75 


once I got up and stole out to see him as 
he lay on the hearth-rug in the clear moon- 
light, resting unquietly, for his wounds 
pained him. I went and stood so near that 
my tears fell on his beautiful head ; but I 
was careful not to wake him, for I some- 
how felt guilty toward him. 

That night the weather changed, and 
the next morning came up chilly and 
windy, with no sunshine at all, — as 
though it would not have been a gloomy 
day enough, any how. After breakfast — 
ah ! I remember well how little breakfast 
was eaten by any of us that morning — 
Hector was led out into the yard, and fas- 
tened to a stake. He had never before in 
all his life been tied, and he now looked 
troubled and ashamed. But my mother 
spoke pleasantly to him and patted him, 
and he held up his head and looked proud 
again. My mother was greatly grieved 
that the poor fellow should have to die 
for defending her children, and when she 
turned from him and went into the house, 


76 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


I saw she was in tears ; so I cried louder 
than ever. One after another, we all went 
up and took leave of our dear and faithful 
friend. My youngest brother clung about 
him longest, crying and sobbing as though 
his heart would break. It seemed that 
we should never get the child away. My 
brother Rufus said that no one should 
shoot his dog Rut himself, and while we 
children were bidding farewell, he stood 
at a little distance loading his rifle. But 
finally he also came up to take leave. He 
laid his hand tenderly on Hector’s head, 
but did not speak to him or look into 
his eyes, — those sad eyes, which seemed 
to be asking what all this crying meant. 
He then stepped quickly back to his place, 
and raised the rifle to his shoulder. Then 
poor Hector appeared to understand it all, 
and to know that he must die, for he gave 
a loud, mournful cry, trembled all over, 
and crouched toward the ground. My 
brother dropped the gun, and leaned upon 
it, pale and distressed. Then came the 


HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND. 77 

strangest thing of all. Hector seemed to 
have strength given him to submit to his 
hard fate ; he stood up bravely again, but 
turned away his head and closed his eyes. 
My brother raised the rifle. I covered my 
face with my hands. Then came a loud, 
sharp report. I looked round and saw 
Hector stretched at full length, with a 
great stream of blood spouting from his 
white breast, and reddening all the grass 
about him. He was not quite dead, and 
as we gathered around him, he looked up 
into our faces and moaned. The ball 
which pierced him had cut the cord in two 
that bound him to the stake, and he was 
free at the last. My brother, who had 
thrown down his rifle, drew near also, but 
dared not come close, because, he said, he 
feared the poor dog would look reproach- ' 
fully at him. But Hector caught sight 
of his beloved master, and, rousing all 
his strength, dragged himself to his feet. 
Rufus bent over him and called him by 
name. Hector looked up lovingly and for- 


78 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


givingly into his face, licked his hand, and 
died. Then my brother, who had kept a 
firm, manly face all the while, burst into 
tears. 

My brother William, who was always 
master of ceremonies on such occasions, 
made a neat coffin for Hector, and laid him 
in it, very gently and solemnly. I flung 
in all the wild-flowers which Albert and I 
had gathered on the afternoon of our last 
walk with our noble friend, and so we 
buried him. His grave was very near the 
spot where he had so bravely defended us 
from the mad dog, by the side of the way, 
in the long, pleasant lane where the elm- 
trees grew. 


BOB, THE COSSET. 


One cold night in March, my father 
came in from the barn-yard, bringing a 
little lamb, which lay stiff and still in 
his arms, and appeared to be quite dead. 
But my mother, who was good and kind 
to all creatures, wrapped it in flannel, and, 
forcing open its teeth, poured some warm 
milk down its throat. Still it did not open 
its eyes or move, and when we went to 
bed it was yet lying motionless before the 
fire. It happened that my mother slept 
in a room opening out of the sitting-room, 
and in the middle of the night she heard 
a little complaining voice, saying, “ Ma ! ” 
She thought it must be some one of us, 
and so answered, “ What, my child 1 


80 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


Again it came, “ Ma ! ” and, turning round, 
slie saw by the light of the moon the lit- 
tle lamb she had left for dead standing by 
her bedside. In the morning it was found 
that the own mother of “ Bob,” (for we 
gave him that name,) had died of cold in 
the night ; so we adopted the poor orphan 
into our family. We children took care of 
him, and though it was a great trouble to 
bring him up by hand, we soon became 
attached to our charge, and grew very 
proud of his handsome growth and thriv- 
ing condition. He was^ in truth, a most 
amusing pet, he had such free manners 
with every body and was so entirely at 
home everywhere. He would go into ev- 
ery room in the house, — even mount the 
stairs and appear in our chambers in the 
morning, sometimes before we were up, to 
shame us with his early rising. But the 
place which of all others he decidedly pre- 
ferred was the pantry. Here he was, I am 
sorry to say, once or twice guilty of break- 
ing the commandment against stealing, by 


BOB, THE COSSET. 


81 


helping himself to fruit and to slices of 
bread which did not rightfully belong to 
him. He was tolerably amiable, though 
I think that lambs generally haveja greater 
name for sweetness of temper than they 
deserve. But Bob, though playful and 
somewhat mischievous, had never any se- 
rious disagreement with the dogs, cats, 
pigs, and poultry on the premises. My 
sister and I used to make wreaths for his 
neck, which he wore with such an evident 
attempt at display, that I sometimes feared 
he was more vain and proud than it was 
right for such an innocent and poetical 
animal to be. 

But our trials did not really commence 
until Bob’s horns began to sprout. It 
seemed that he had no sooner perceived 
those little protuberances in his looking 
glass, the drinking-trough, than he took 
to butting, like any common pasture- 
reared sheep, who had been wholly with- 
out the advantages of education and good 
society. It was in vain that we tried 


82 


history of my pets. 


to impress upon him that such was not 
correct conduct in a cosset of his breed- 
ing ; he would still persevere in his little 
interesting trick of butting all such visit- 
ors as did not happen to strike his fancy. 
But he never treated us to his horns in 
that way, and so we let him go, like any 
other spoiled child, without punishing 
him severely, and rather laughed at his 
sauciness. 

But one day our minister, a stout, el- 
derly gentleman, solemn-faced and formal, 
had been making us a parochial visit, and 
as he was going away, we all went out 
into the yard to see him ride off, on his 
old sorrel pacer. It seems he had no 
riding- whip ; so he reached up to break off 
a twig from an elm-tree which hung over 
the gate. This was very high, and he was 
obliged to stand on tiptoe. Just then, 
before he had grasped the twig he wanted, 
Bob started out from under a large rose- 
bush near by, and run against the rever- 
end gentleman, butting him so violently 


BOB, THE COSSET. 


83 


as to take him quite off his feet. My fa- 
ther helped the good man up, and made 
a great many apologies for the impiety of 
our pet, while we children did our best to 
keep our faces straight. After our vener- 
able visitor was gone, my father sternly 
declared that he would not bear with Bob 
any longer, but that he should be turned 
into the pasture with the other sheep, for 
he would not have him about, insulting 
respectable people and butting ministers 
of the Gospel at that rate. 

So the next morning Bob was banished 
in disgrace from the house and yard, and 
obliged to mingle with the vulgar herd of 
his kind. With them I regret to say that 
he soon earned the name of being very 
bold and quarrelsome. As his horns grew 
and lengthened, he grew more and more 
proud of the consequence they gave him, 
and went forth butting and to butt. O, 
he was a terrible fellow ! 

One summer day, my brother Charles 
and a young man who lived with us were 


84 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


in the mill-pond, washing the sheep which 
were soon to be sheared. I was standing 
on the bank, w’atching the work, when 
one of our neighbours, a hard, coarse man, 
came up, and calling to my brother, in a 
loud voice, asked if he had been hunting 
a raccoon the night before. “Yes, Sir, and 
I killed him too,” answered my brother. 
“ Well, young man,” said the farmer, “ did 
you pass through my field, and trample 
down the grain ] ” “I crossed the field, 
Sir, but I hope I did no great damage,” re- 
plied Charles, in a pleasant way. “ Yes, 
,you did ! ” shouted the man, “ and now, 
you young rascal, if I ever catch you on 
my land again, day or night, I ’ll thrash 
you ! — I 'll teach you something, if your 
father wont ! ” As he said this, stretch- 
mg his great fist out threateningly toward 
my brother, he stood on the very edge of 
the steep bank. Just behind him were 
the sheep, headed by the redoubtable Bob, 
who suddenly darted forward, and, before 
the farmer could suspect what was coming, 


BOB, THE COSSET. 


85 


butted him head over heels into the pond ! 
My brother went at once to the assistance 
of his enemy, who scrambled on to the 
shore, sputtering and dripping, but a good 
deal cooled in his rage. I suppose I was 
very wicked, but I did enjoy that ! 

For this one good turn. Bob was always 
quite a favorite, with all his faults, and 
year after year was spared, when worthier 
sheep were made mutton of. He was 
finally sold, with the rest of the flock, 
when we Jeft the farm, and though he 
lived to a good old age, the wool of his 
last fleece must long since have been knit 
into so6ks and comforters, or woven into 
cloth, — must have grown threadbare, 
and gone to dress scarecrows, or stop cel- 
lar-windows, or been all trodden out in 
rag-carpets. 


ROBIN REDBREAST. 


I MUST now, dear children, pass over a 
few years of my life, in which I had no 
pets in whose history you would be likely 
to be interested. 

At the time of my possessing my won- 
derful Robin, we had left our country 
home, my brothers were most of them 
abroad in the world, and I was living with 

my parents in the pleasant city of R . 

I was a school-girl, between fifteen and 
sixteen years of age. That spring, I com- 
menced the study of French, and, as I was 
never a remarkably bright scholar, I was 
obliged to apply myself with great dili- 
gence to my books. I used to take my 
grammar and phrase-book to my chamber, 



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ROBIN REDBREAST. 


8' 


at night, and study as long as I could pos- 
sibly keep my eyes open. In consequence 
of this, as you may suppose, I was very 
sleepy in the morning, and it usually took 
a prodigious noise and something of a 
shaking to waken me. But one summer 
morning I was roused early, not by the 
breakfast-bell, nor by calling, or shaking, 
but by a glad gush of sweetest singing. 
I opened my eyes, and right on the foot- 
board of my bed was perched a pretty 
red-breasted robin, pouring out all his lit- 
tle soul in a merry morning song. I stole 
out of bed softly, and shut down the win 
dow through which he had come ; then, as 
soon as I was dressed, caught him, carried 
him down stairs, and put him into a cage 
which had hung empty ever since the cat 
made way with my last Canary. 

I soon found that I had a rare treasure 
in my Bobin, who was very tame, and had 
evidently been carefully trained, for before 
the afternoon was over he surprised and 
delighted us all by singing the air of 


88 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


‘‘ Buy a Broom ” quite through, touching 
on every note with wonderful precision. 
We saw that it was a valuable bird, who 
had probably escaped, and for some days 
we made inquiries for its owner, but with- 
out success. 

At night I always took Bobin’s cage 
into my chamber, and he was sure to 
waken me early with his loud, but de- 
licious, singing. So passed on a month, in 
which I had great happiness in my inter- 
esting pet. But one Saturday forenoon I 
let him out, that I might clean his cage. 
I had not observed that there was a win- 
dow open, but the bird soon made himself 
acquainted with the fact, and, with a glad, 
exulting trill, he darted out into the sun- 
shine. Hastily catching my bonnet, I ran 
after him. At first, he stayed about the 
trees in front of the house, provokingly 
hopping from branch to branch out of my 
reach, holding his head on one side, and 
eyeing me with sly, mischievous glances. 
At last he spread his wings and flew down 


ROBIN REDBREAST. 


89 


the street. I followed as fast as I could, 
keeping my eye upon him all the time. It 
was curious that he did not fly across 
squares, or over the houses, but kept along 
above the streets, slowly, and with a back 
ward glance once in a while. At length, 
he turned down a narrow court, and flew 
into the open window of a small frame- 
house. Here I followed him, knocking 
timidly at the door, which was opened at 
once by a boy about nine years old. I 
found myself in a small parlour, very 
plainly, but neatly furnished. In an arm 
chair by the window sat a middle-aged 
woman, who I saw at once was blind. A 
tall, dark-eyed, rather handsome girl was 
sitting near her, sewing. But I did not 
look at either of these more than a moment, 
for on the other side of the room was an 
object to charm, and yet sadden, my eyes. 
This was a slight girl, about my own age, 
reclining on a couch, looking very ill and 
pale, but with a small, red spot on each 
cheek, which told me that she was almost 
8 


90 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


gone with consumption. She was very 
beautiful, though so thin and weary look- 
ing. She had large, dark, tender eyes, and 
her lips were still as sweet as rosebuds. 
I think I never saw such magnificent hair 
as hers ; it flowed all over her pillow, and 
hung down nearly to the floor, in bright, 
glossy ringlets. 

At that moment she was holding the 
truant Robin in her white, slender hands, 
crying and laughing over him, calling 
him her “dear lost pet,” her “naughty 
runaway,” and a hundred other loving and 
scolding names. I, of course, felt rather 
awkward, but I explained matters to Rob- 
in’s fair mistress as well as I could. She 
looked pleased, and thanked me warmly 
for the good care I had taken of the bird. 
Then she made me sit down by her side, 
and asked my name, and told me hers, 
which was Ellen Harper, and introduced 
me to her mother, sister, and brother, all 
in the sweetest manner possible. We got 
quite well acquainted, and talked like old 


ROBIN REDBREAST. 


91 


friends, til] Ellen’s cough interrupted her. 
Then, as I rose to go, she made me prom- 
ise to come again very soon, and raised 
herself as though she would kiss me be- 
fore I went. J ust as I bent down to press 
my lips to hers, Eobin, who, of his own 
accord, had taken possession of his old 
cage, which had been left open for him, 
burst out into a sweet, merry warble, full 
of the most astonishing trills and shakes. 
Then I felt that it was well that we two 
should love one another. 

After that, I went almost daily to see 
Ellen Harper. I carried her books, I read 
to her, talked to her, and listened to her 
low gentle voice, and looked down deep 
into her clear hazel eyes, till I grew to 
love the sweet, patient girl more than I can 
tell. I think that she was a most remark- 
able person. Her parents were quite poor, 
and she had enjoyed few advantages ; but 
she was far beyond me in scholarship and 
reading. And then she was a true Chris- 
tian, with a calm hope, and a cheerful 


92 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


resignation ; she seemed indeed to have 
given her heart to God. 

Ellen knew that she was d}ing; she 
knew that, young and fair and beloved as 
she was, she had not long to stay in this 
bright, beautiful world. But she did not 
fear, or complain, for she knew also that 
a kind Father called her away, to a world 
far brighter and many times more beauti- 
ful than ours. It was touching to see her 
trying to comfort her sister Lucy, whose 
strength would sometimes give way as 
she saw that slight form growing weaker 
every day ; or her young brother Willie, 
when he would leave his book, or his play, 
and come and lay his face against her bo- 
som and cry ; or her father, when he would 
come home from his work at night, and 
sit down beside his darling child, and hold 
her thin, fair fingers in his great, brown 
hand, and say no word, only sigh as 
though his poor heart was breaking; or 
her mother, who was blind, and could not 
see the change in her “ own little Nellie,” 


ROBIN REDBREAST, 


93 


as she called her, and so had to be told 
again and again that she was failing fast. 
For all these dear ones, Ellen had words 
of consolation, and they always felt strong- 
er after she had talked with them. 

On some of those mornings when I 
went over to dress her beautiful hair, 
which I dearly loved to do, she talked to 
me as an angel might talk, I thought, and 
told me many sweet and holy things, 
which I shall remember all the days of 
my life. 

As long as she stayed with us, Ellen had 
great pleasure in her pet Eobin. She said 
that to her ear he always seemed to be 
singing hymns, which was a great joy to 
her after she became too weak to sing 
them herself. 

Dear Ellen died at night. She had 
been very restless in the evening, and at 
last said that, if she could lie in her moth- 
er’s arms, as she used to lie when she w^as 
a little child, she thought that she could 
sleep. So Mrs. Harper laid down beside 


94 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


her (laughter, who nestled against her bo- 
som and slept. Ellen’s happy spirit passed 
away in that sleep. But her mother was 
blind, and could not see when her child 
was dead ; and when her husband, fearing 
what had happened, came near, she raised 
her finger and said, “ Hush, don’t wake 
Nellie ! ” 

The next morning, Lucy sent over for 
me to come and dress Ellen’s hair for the 
last time. I found my friend looking very 
much as I had always seen her, only with 
a sweeter smile, if possible, hovering about 
her lips. She was lying on her couch, 
dressed in white muslin, and with many 
flowers scattered around her. A vase of 
roses stood on a stand at her feet, and over 
it nung the pretty cage of Eobin, and 
Eobin himself was singing very sweetly, 
but in lower tones than usual, as if he 
thought his young mistress was sleeping, 
and feared to waken her. 

They had cut away some of the hair 
from the back of Ellen’s head, but around 


ROBIN REDBREAST. 


95 


the forehead the familiar ringlets were 
all left. These I dressed very carefully, 
though my tears fell so fast, I could 
scarcely see what I was doing. I shall 
never forget the scene when the family 
came into the parlour to look upon Ellen, 
after she had been laid out, that morn- 
ing. Lucy, sobbing and trembling, led 
her mother to the couch. The poor 
woman felt in the air above the dead 
face a moment, and said, “How I miss 
her sweet breath round me ! ” Then 
she knelt down, and, with her arms hung 
over the body, swayed back and forth, and 
seemed to pray silently. The father took 
those shining curls in his hands, and 
smoothed them tenderly and kissed them 
many times, while his great hot tears fell 
fast on the head of his child, and on the 
rose-buds which lay upon her pillow, and 
seemed to give a hush to her white, cold 
cheek. 

I noticed that little Willie was the calm- 
est of them all. He seemed to have taken 


96 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


to heart the words of his sister, when she 
told him that she was going into a better 
and happier life, where she would continue 
to love him, and whither he would come, 
if he was good and true in this life. So 
he did not grieve for her, as most children 
grieve, but was quiet and submissive. 

Ellen was buried in a beautiful cemetery 
a mile or two from the noise and dust of 
the city. The morning after she had been 
laid there, I went to plant a little rose-tree 
over her grave. I was somewhat sur- 
prised to find Willie there, and with him 
Eobin Redbreast, in his pretty cage. 

“ Why have you brought the bird here, 
Willie r’ I asked. 

“ Because,” said he, in a low, trembling 
voice, “ I thought that, now sister’s spirit 
was free, I ought not to keep her bird a 
prisoner any longer.” 

“ That is right,” I said, for I thought 
that this was a beautiful idea . of the 
child’s. 

So Willie opened the door of the cage, 


ROBIN REDBREAST. 


97 


and out flew the Robin. This time he did 
not alight on the trees, but mounted right 
up toward heaven. There was a light 
cloud floating over us, and, as we stood 
looking up after the bird, Willie seemed 
troubled to see that it passed into this, 
and so was lost to our sight. “ Ah,” he 
said, “ I hoped he would follow Nellie ! 
but he has gone into the cloud, and sis- 
ter s soul, I am very sure, passed away 
into the sunshine.” 


9 


T O M. 


I NOW come to the very prince of pets, 
the one of all I ever had the most noble 
and most dear, — Tom, a Newfoundland 
setter, the favorite dog of my brother Al- 
bert. He has been a member of our family 
for five or six years past. We brought 
him from the city to our pleasant village 
home in Pennsylvania, where we now live. 

Tom is a dog of extraordinary beauty, 
sagacity, and good feeling. He is very 
large, and, with the exception of his feet 
and breast, jet black, vdth a thick coat of 
fine hair, which lies in short curls, glossy 
and silken. He has a well-formed head, 
and a handsome, dark eye, full of kind- 
ness and intelligence. His limbs are 


TOM. 


9y 


small, and his feet particularly delicate. 
He is, I am sorry to say, rather indolent 
in his habits, always prefers to take a 
carriage to the hunting-ground, when he 
goes sporting with his master, and he 
sleeps rather too soundly at night to be a 
good watch-dog. We make him useful in 
various ways, however, such as carrying 
baskets and bundles, and sometimes we 
send him to the post-of&ce with and for 
letters and papers. These he always takes 
the most faithfu? care of, never allowing 
any one to look at them on the way. He 
is a remarkably gentlemanly dog in his 
manner, never making free with people, 
or seeming too fond at first sight ; but if 
you speak to him pleasantly, he will ofiei 
you a friendly paw in a quiet way, and 
seem happy to make your acquaintance. 
He never fawms, nor whines, nor skulks 
about, but is dignified, easy, and perfectly 
at home in polite society. He is a sad 
aristocrat, treats all well-dressed comers 
most courteously, b it mth shabby people 


lUO 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


he will have nothing to do. Tom knows 
how to take and cairy on a joke. I rec- 
ollect one evening, when we had visitors, 
and he was in the parlour, I put on him a 
gay-colored sack of my own, and a large 
gypsy hat, which I tied under his throat. 
Instead of looking ashamed and trying to 
get these off, as most dogs would have 
done, he crossed the room and sprang on 
to the sofa, where he sat upright, look- 
ing very wise and grave, like some old 
colored woman at church. The illustrious 
General Tom Thumb once travelled with 
my brother and this dog, and, falling very 
much in love with his namesake, offered 
any price for him. Of course, my brother 
would not think for a moment of selling 
his faithful friend, and even had he felt 
differently, I doubt very much whether 
Tom, who had been used to looking up to 
full-grown men, would have sho\\Ti much 
obedience or respect, for such a funny lit- 
tle fellow as the General. It was amusing 
to observe the dog’s manner toward his 


TOM. 


101 


small, new acquaintance. He was kind 
and condescending, though he sometimes 
seemed to think that the General was a 
little too much inclined to take liberties 
with his superiors in age and size, — rath- 
er more forward and familiar than was 
quite becoming in a child. 

Two or three years ago, Tom was the 
beloved playfellow of my brother Freder- 
ic’s youngest daughter, — our little Jane. 
She always seemed to me like a fairy- 
child, she was so small and delicate, with 
such bright golden curls falling about her 
face, — the sweetest face in the world. It 
was beautiful to see her at play with that 
great, black dog, who was very tender with 
her, for he seemed to know that she was 
not strong. One evening she left her 
play earlier than usual, and went and laid 
her head in her mother’s lap, and said, 
“ Little Jane is tired.” That night she 
sickened, and in a few, a very few days 
she died. When she was hid away in the 
grave;, we grieved deeply that we should 


102 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


see her face no more, but we had joy to 
know that it would never be pale with 
sickness in that heavenly home to which 
she had gone; and though we miss her 
still, we have great happiness in the 
thought that she will never be “ tired ” 
any more, for we believe her to be resting 
on the bosom of the Lord Jesus. 

One day last spring, I remember, her 
mother gave me a bunch of violets, say- 
ing, “ They are from the grave of little 
Jane.” I suppose they were like all other 
blue violets, but I thought then I had 
never seen any so beautiful. It seemed to 
me that the sweet looks of the child were 
blooming out of the flowers which had 
sprung up over the place where we had 
laid her. 

Tom seems much attached to all our 
family, but most devotedly so to my brother 
Albert. They two have hunted very much 
together, and seem equally fond of the 
sport. If Tom sees his master with his 
hunting-dress on, and his fowling-piece in 


TOM, 


103 


hand, he is half beside himself with joy. 
But when he returns from the hunt, spent 
and weary, he always comes to me to be 
fed and petted. 

You will remember that years have 
passed by since this brother and I were 
schoolmates and playmates together. He 
is now a fine young man, while I am a 
full-grown woman, who have seen the 
world I used to think so grand and glori- 
ous, and found it — no better than it 
should be. But of my brother. He is 
our youngest, you know, and so has nev- 
er outgrown that peculiar fondness, that 
dear love, we always give to “ the baby.” 
While I have been writing these histories, 
and recalling in almost every scene the 
playmate of my childhood, I can only see 
him as a boy, — a little black-eyed, rosy- 
clieeked boy ; it is very difficult to think 
of him as a man^ making his own way 
bravely in the world. Last spring we ob- 
served that dear Albert’s bright face had 
become very thoughtful and serious ; we 


104 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


knew that something was weighing on his 
mind, and finally it came out. He was 
about to leave us all for a long time, it 
might be for ever ; he was going to Califor- 
nia ! We were very unhappy to hear this, 
but, as it was on some accounts the best 
thing that my brother could do,, we finally 
consented, and all went to work as cheer- 
fully as we could to help him off. 

It was a bright May morning when he 
left, but it seemed to us that there never 
was a darker or sadder day. The deai 
fellow kept up good courage till it came 
to the parting; then his heart seemed to’ 
melt and fiow out in his tears, fast drop- 
ping on the brows and necks of his moth- 
er and sisters, as he held them for the last 
time to his heaving breast. But I will not 
dwell on this parting, for my own eyes 
grow so dim I cannot well see to write. 

I remember that poor Tom seemed 
greatly troubled that morning; he knew 
that something sad was happening, and 
looked anxiously in our faces, as though 


TOM. 


105 


he would ask what it was ; and when my 
brother patted him on the head, bade him 
good by, and passed out of the gate, for- 
bidding him to follow, the faithful creature 
whined sadly, and looked after him wist- 
fully, till he was out of sight. 

After Albert had been gone about an 
hour, I remember that I went up into his 
room, and sat down in his favorite seat, 
by the window. O, how still and lonely 
and mournful it seemed there ! Near 
me hung my brother’s fencing-sword and 
mask, which he had used only the day 
before, — on the floor lay the game-bag, 
which he had always worn in hunting, and 
which he had flung out of his trunk, not 
having room for it. This brought my 
merry brother before me more clearly than 
any thing else. I took it up and held it a 
long time, mourning at heart, but I could 
not weep. Suddenly I heard a low whine 
in the hall, and Tom stole softly into the 
room. He came to me and laid his head 
in my lap ; but when he saw the game-bag 


106 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


there, he set up a most mournful cry. 
Then I flung my arms about him, bowed 
my head down against his neck, and burst, 
into tears. I forgot that he was a poor 
dumb brute, and only remembered that 
he loved my brother, and my brother loved 
him, and that he mourned with me in my 
sorrow. After this, it was very affecting 
to see Tom go every day, for a long while, 
to the gate, out of which he had seen his 
master pass for the last time, and then 
stand and look up the street, crying like 
a giieved child. 

As you will readily believe, Tom is now 
dearer than ever to us all ; we cannot see 
him without a sweet, sad thought of that 
beloved one so far away. I am not now 
at home, but I never hear from there with- 
out hearing of the welfare of the noble 
dog which my brother, in going, bestowed 
upon me. 


SUPPLEMENTARY STORIES. 


It is twenty years since the first part 
of this little volume was published. The 
dear children for whom those simple sto- 
ries of my childhood were told are men 
and women now, and wonderful changes 
have taken place in all our lives and in 
all the world. But in growing old I have 
not lost anything of my old love of pets ; 
and I hope that my little readers of this 
time will understand and share that feel- 
ing. I hope that you, dear boys and 
girls, look on all innocent dumb creatures 
about you as friends, and have not only a 
kindly interest in them, but respect them 
for all that is lovely and wonderful in their 
brief existences, and as objects of the 
unceasing care and tenderness of our 


108 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


Father in heaven. Every smallest crea- 
ture that lives represents a thought of 
God, — was born out of his great, deep, 
infinite life. 

I hope you especially like to hear about 
dogs and cats, birds and chickens, for it is 
of them that I have a few new stories to 
relate, as true as they are amusing or 
marvellous. 


FIDO THE BEAYE. 


First I must relate the somewhat 
tragical history of a certain little shaggy 
brown - and - white spaniel belonging to 
some friends of ours in the country. ^ He 
was a stray dog, and came to them in a 
very forlorn condition, and had evidently 
been vagabondizing about in the fields 
and woods for some days, for he was rav- 
enously hungry, and his long hair was 
dirty, and stuck full of straws, briers, and 
burrs, till he bristled like a hedgehog. 
The first thing that the kind lady did, 
after feeding him, was to put him into a 
warm bath. Then she set herself to 
work to rid him of his encumbrances, — 
sticks, straws, briers, and burrs. It was a 
long time before she got down to the 


110 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


dog; but when at last she laid down 
scissors, scrubbing-brush, and comb, and 
deposited her poor protege on the floor, 
he was a good deal diminished in size, 
but looked really handsome, and very 
bright, quaint, and droll. 

He took at once to his new home, and 
soon became a great pet, showing him- 
self to be grateful, affectionate, and full 
of cleverness, fun, and fire. His pluck 
was beyond all question. Though not 
quarrelsome, he would, when in the least 
degree put upon, fight any dog in the 
neighborhood, whatever his size and 
breed, and he generally came off victori- 
ous. But he was altogether too rash and 
venturesome, given to worrying cows, 
horses, hogs, and old stragglers ; rushing 
into all sorts of danger, and coming out, 
when he did come out, and was not 
brought out, with his little eyes dancing 
and his bushy tail in air, as though en- 
joying the risk of the thing, and the ter- 
ror of his kind mistress. 


FIDO THE BRAVE. 


Ill 


Among other sportive tricks was a way 
he had of running before the locomotive 
when the train was coming in or going 
out of the station, near by the house of 
my friends. Nearly every day he could 
be seen frisking about it, dancing franti- 
cally up and down before it, and barking 
valorously. He really seemed to take a 
malicious satisfaction in defying and in- 
sulting that rumbling, puffing, snorting 
monster, that, big as it was, ran away 
from him as fast as possible. 

^^The pitcher goes often to the well, 
but is broken at last.’’ 

One fatal day the little spaniel miscal- 
culated the speed of his big enemy, and 
failed to get out of the way in time. He 
was all off the track but one hind leg, 
when he was struck by the locomotive and 
knocked into a ditch, — that one hind 
leg being pretty badly mashed, you may 
believe. The poor little fellow set up a 
great outcry, but the unfeeling engineer 
never stopped the train to attend to him, 


112 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


and the railroad folks kept the accident 
out of the papers. Fido made his way 
home all alone, dragging his mashed leg 
behind him. Though greatly shocked, 
his mistress did not scold him, but sent 
for a surgeon, who, after a careful exami- 
nation, and consulting his books, decided 
that an amputation was necessary. Then 
the good, brave lady held her poor, dear 
pet on her lap while the dreadful opera- 
tion was performed. She asked a gen- 
tleman of the family to hold him, but he 
had not the nerve. After the stump had 
been skilfully dressed, the little dog evi- 
dently felt better, soon ceased to bemoan 
his loss, and took kindly to a light sup- 
per. He rested well that night, and in 
the morning the doctor pronounced him 
better. His kind mistress nursed him 
faithfully till he was restored to perfect 
health. He never seemed to fret about 
his maimed condition, but hopped around 
on three legs as merry and active as ever. 
It was observed, however, that he gave 


FIDO THE BRAVE. 


113 


a wide berth to railway trains, and howled 
whenever he heard the whistle of the 
engine, ever after. Still the fight was n’t 
out of him. He was as jealous of his 
honor and as fiery and plucky as before 
his disaster. 

One afternoon, while taking a quiet 
three-legged stroll some distance away 
from home, he encountered on the high- 
way a big, surly bull-dog, who presumed 
on the 'spaniel’s diminutive size and crip- 
pled condition to insult him and rail at 
him. Brave Fido dashed at once at the 
ugly bully’s throat, and bit and hung on 
in the most furious and desperate way. 
It was a gallant fight he made, and it did 
seem for a while as though he must come 
off victorious, like David after his engage- 
ment with Goliah. But at last the infu- 
riated bull-dog tore himself free, and then 
proceeded to make mince-meat of the 
poor spaniel. He tore his ears half off, 
and his eyes half out, and mangled his 
head generally, till it was disfigured to 


114 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


the last degree. Then he bit and chewed 
the left, the only left hind leg, till one 
might say that he was next to a locomo- 
tive and a whole train of cars at the 
mangling business. At this desperate 
stage of the combat a woman came out 
of a farm-house near by, drove the bull- 
dog away with a poker, and took up poor 
Fido. As he had become insensible, she 
thought him dead, and flung him down 
in a fence corner, out of the way of travel, 
and there left him, meaning, let us hope, 
to have him decently buried in the morn- 
ing. But Fido was not yet ready to give 
up this life. The cool evening dew re- 
vived him ; brought him to his senses, in 
part at least. He could not yet see, but, 
guided by some mysterious instinct, he 
made his sure way, dragging himself by 
his fore legs, which were only iivo you 
know, across the fields to his home. His 
mistress was awakened in the night by 
hearing him scratching and whining at 
the door, and made haste to arise and take 


FIDO THE BRAVE. 


115 


in the poor crippled, blinded, bleeding 
creature, who laid himself panting and 
moaning at her feet. I hope I need not 
tell you that she did not give him up. 
She prepared a soft bed for him in an old 
basket, washed and dressed his wounds, 
and though everybody, especially the 
doctor, said he must die, that he was as 
good as dead then, she was sure she could 
fetch him round, and she did fetch him 
round amazingly. 

But alas ! Fido’s troubles were not over, 
even when he got so that he could hobble 
about on his three legs, and see tolerably 
well; for one cold morning, as he lay 
curled up in his basket near the kitchen 
stove, he was, I grieve to say, terribly 
scalded by a careless cook, who spilled a 
kettle of hot water over him. Even then 
his mistress refused to give him up to die, 
but dressed, his burns with sweet oil, or 
applied a pain-killer, or Dailey’s Salve,” 
and administered Mrs. Winslow’s Sooth- 
ing Syrup, perhaps, — anyhow she nursed 


116 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


him so skilfully and faithfully that she 
fetched him round again. He is no beauty 
nowadays, but alive, and alive like to 
be. It is my opinion that, like the great 
Napoleon, that dog bears a charmed life. 


CAT TALES. 


FAITHFUL GRIMALKIN. 

Many years ago, when my parents 
lived in old Connecticut, my mother had a 
pet cat, a pretty graceful creature, frisky 
and arch and gay, though clad in sober 
gray. She was a favorite with all the 
large household, but especially attached 
herself to my mother, following her about 
everywhere, — up stairs, down stairs, and 
in my lady’s chamber,” accompanying her 
in her walks, hiding behind every bush, 
and prancing out upon her in a surpris- 
ing, not to say startling, manner. 

At last she grew out of kittenhood, 
laid aside, in a measure, kittenish things, 
and became the happiest, fondest, proud- 
est feline mamma ever beheld. She ca- 
ressed and gloated over her little, blind, 


118 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


toddlingj mewing, miniature tigers in a 
perfect ecstasy of maternal delight. Just 
at this interesting period of pussy’s life 
our family moved from the old place to 
a house in the country, about a mile 
away. My mother was ill, and was car- 
ried very carefully on a bed from one 
sick-room to another. In the hurry, 
trouble, and confusion of that time, poor 
pussy, who lodged with her family in an 
attic, was quite forgotten. But early in 
the morning of the first day in the new 
house, — a pleasant summer morning, 
when all the doors and windows were 
open, — as my mother lay on her bed, in 
a parlor on the first floor, she saw her cat 
walk into the hall and look eagerly around. 
The moment the faithful creature caught 
sight of her beloved mistress, she came 
bounding into the room, across it, and on 
to the bed, where she purred and mewed 
in a delighted, yet reproachful way, quite 
hysterical, licking my mother’s hand and 
rubbing up against her cheek in a man- 


FAITHFUL GRIMALKIN. 


119 


ner that said more plainly than words, 

Ah ! my dear madam, didst thou think 
to leave thy faithful Grimalkin behind ? 
Where thou goest, I will go.’' 

She was taken into the kitchen and 
treated to a cup of new milk ; but after 
a few moments given to rest and refresh- 
ment she disappeared. Yet she went 
only to come again in the course of an 
hour, lugging one of her kittens, which 
she deposited on the bed, commended to 
my mother’s care, and straightway de- 
parted. In an almost incredibly short 
time she came bounding in with a second 
kitten. She continued her journeys till 
the whole litter had been safely trans- 
ported, over hill and dale, ditches and 
stone-walls, through perils of unfriendly 
dogs and mischievous boys, and the fam- 
ily flitting was complete. 

After this, our noble puss was loved 
and respected more than ever. She dwelt 
long in the land, and her kits grew up, I 
believe, to be worthy of such a mother. 


120 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


OBEDIENT THOMAS. 

Now I want to give you an instance 
of filial respect and submission in a young 
cat. When we first came to Washington, 
nearly two years ago, I took to petting a 
handsome cat belonging to the relatives 
with whom we then lived. I fed and 
caressed her, and she became very fond 
of me, always running to meet me when 
I entered the garden which she haunted^ 
or the barn in which she lodged. She 
was rather wild in her ways, and so stole 
a nest, in which she finally hid away some 
kittens, that she afterwards reared to be 
wilder than herself. These somehow dis- 
appeared, all but one, which, when he 
was about half grown, I undertook to 
tame. It was a difficult, tedious job ; but 
I persevered, and at last found him a 
more affectionate, docile pet than ever his 
mother had been. She had seemed fond 
of him in his wild, unregenerate days. 


OBEDIENT THOMAS. 


121 


but as soon as he became domesticated^, 
and I began to show a partiality for him, 
she grew very severe with him, scratch- 
ing his face and boxing his ears when- 
ever she saw me caressing him. I soon 
noticed that when she was near he was 
shy, pretending not to be on intimate 
terms with me ; while, if she was out of 
the way, I had only to call his name, to 
have him come galloping up from the 
furthest part of the long garden, to rub 
against me, to lick my hand, and show 
every feline fondness and delight. Now 
we live at another house, and I seldom 
see my pets, mother and son ; but they 
are loving and constant still, proving that 
the poet Coleridge did n’t know every- 
thing when he talked about “the little 
short memories ” of cats. 

Master Thomas has grown large and 
strong, and is accounted a gallant young 
fellow by all the yoimg pussies in the 
neighborhood. But while toward cats of 
his own sex he is fierce and combative, 


122 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


lie is just as meek and deferential to his 
mother as he was in his tender kitten- 
hood. The other day I encountered him 
in the old garden, and was surprised to 
find how stalwart he had become. I 
stooped to caress him, and he seemed as 
susceptible to gentle overtures as ever, 
arched his back, switched his tail, and 
purred rapturously. Suddenly the moth- 
er cat stole out from behind a tree, and 
confronted us. " Good morning, madam,” 
I said, for I always talk to cats and dogs 
just as I talk to other people. You 
have a fine son here ; a handsome young 
fellow, that favors you, I think.” But 
she was n’t to be softened by the compli- 
ment. She walked straight up to him, 
and boxed him first on one ear and then 
on the other, quite in the old motherly 
way. As for him he never thought of 
resenting the old lady’s act, or opposing 
her will, but drooped his lordly tail, and 
hastily retreated. Now that is what I 
call good family discipline. 


OBEDIENT THOMAS. 


123 


This city of Washington is a place 
where the wits of people are sharpened, 
if anywhere, and perhaps even cats and 
dogs become uncommonly clever and 
knowing here. Only yesterday I was told 
of a Washington cat which had just been 
found out in a wonderful trick. Observ- 
ing that, when the door-bell rang, the one 
servant of the household was obhged to 
leave the kitchen, she managed to slyly 
ring the bell, by jumping up against the 
wire, and invariably, when her enemy, 
the cook, went to the door, she would 
slip into the kitchen, and help herself to 
whatever tempting article of food was 
within reach. At last some one watched, 
and caught her at her secret " wire-pull- 
ing.” Poor puss retired with a drooping 
tail and a most dejected aspect, evidently 
realizing that the game was up. 

Another cat I know of was of so 
amiable and benevolent a disposition 
that she actually adopted into her own 
circle of infant kits a poor, forlorn little 


124 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


foundling of a rat. As her nursling he 
grew and thrived, seeming quite as tame 
as the others ; and when a mischievous boy 
set a rat-terrier on him, and so finished 
him, cat and kittens really seemed to 
mourn for their foster son and brother. 


KATKIlSrA AND KATINKA. 

Once on a time — no matter when — 
in a certain beautiful city — no matter 
where — there lived two lovely twin sis- 
ters, with the brightest eyes, and the cun- 
ningest little roly-pol}^ figures, and the 
slenderest ears with the softest pink satin 
lining, and the spryest motions imagina- 
ble. They were brunettes in complexion, 
with white breasts and tail-tips, and they 
were kittens. Katrina and Katinka 
were their names, if I remember rightly, 
— maybe I don’t, but anyhow they might 
have had those names, which, to my 


KATRINA AND KATINKA. 


125 


thinking, are very pretty and appropri- 
ate for kittens. 

Well, these same twin pussies were sin- 
gularly fond of each other, and more sin- 
gularly good to each other. They never 
called names, or scratched, or spat in 
each other’s pretty faces, or pulled each 
other’s little smellers, or quarrelled over 
their meals. They were so marvellously 
alike that it was always difficult to tell 
them apart; and when they slept, as 
they always did, hugged close in each 
other’s arms, you could n’t have told to 
save you where one kitten left off and 
the other kitten began. 

They not only slept, ate, and played 
together, but, as they grew older, took 
their strolls for health and recreation and 
their mouse-hunts in the same close and 
loving companionship. They were very 
curious and wide-awake little bodies, and 
liked to see all they could of the great, 
busy world ; so every pleasant afternoon, 
when there was much driving and walk- 


126 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


ing up and down the fine street on which 
they lived, they could be seen strolling 
down the long walk to the gate, always 
exactly side by side, — neck and neck,” 
as the horse people say, — as even in their 
pace, and as perfectly matched in their 
action, as ever were a pair of trained po- 
nies in Hyde Park. Reaching the gate, 
they would pause and stand quite still 
for a half-hour or so, gravely gazing 
through the palings at the passers, — 
pedestrians, equestrians, and drivers of 
fast horses, — like a pair of dear little brig- 
adiers reviewing their brigades marching 
by. Then, with the air of having dis- 
charged a public duty to the entire sat- 
isfaction of the community, they would 
wheel exactly together, and again, pre- 
cisely neck and neck and tail and tail, 
trot gently homeward. 

So they lived on, in and for each other, 
almost as much united as if they had 
been a pair of small feline female Siam- 
ese twins, amiable, loving, and virtuous, 


KATRINA AND KATINKA. 


J27 


and grew in knowledge and stature up to 
a comelj young cathood. At last it hap- 
pened that a very interesting event oc- 
curred to the twin sisters at precisely 
the same time, — they became happy 
mothers, were blessed with three or 
four fine kittens apiece. But alas ! be- 
fore the little strangers had got fairly to 
feel their legs, before they had got' 
their eyes open, all save one mysteri- 
ously disappeared from each nest. It 
was one fatal morning when the twin 
sisters had slipped out of their happy 
attic apartment for a little air, — to take 
their " Constitutional ” in a trot down the 
long gravel walk to see how the world 
would look to them now they were moth- 
ers, — that this kit-napping occurred. 
When they returned to their families, 
they found them strangely thinned out; 
but they were mothers for all that, and 
did not seem to fret much, or abate their 
maternal pride a jot. 

You see the ruling power in the human 


128 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


household in which they were domesti- 
catedj and who was to them as a provi- 
dence, had ordered a little hydropathy for 
their poor, feeble, sprawling, blind dar- 
lings, — beginning with what is called in 
water-cures ^Hhe heroic treatment,” a 
cold plunge ; and it did n’t agree with 
them, — it never does with any but the 
healthy and hardy patients, — so it was 
they never came back. But under the 
blue waves they sleep well, though never 
a mew or a purr comes bubbling up to the 
surface to tell the spot where they lie* on 
beds of tangled sea-grass. Reqiiies-cat 
in pace^' as old tombstones say. 

The next mournful event in this true 
family history was the untimely death of 
Katrina’s one darling. This had proved 
to be but a frail flower of kittenhood ; 
very pretty she was, — too sweet to 
live,” people said. Her constitution was 
defective, her nervous system was ex- 
tremely delicate. Before she was a week 
old she had something alarmingly like a 


KATRINA AND KATINKA. 


129 


fit of mMepsy. Suddenly, while imbib- 
ing nourishment, with her fond mother 
purring over her, and two or three chil- 
dren looking on in smiling sympathy, she 
gave a piteous wild mew, rolled over on 
her back, and stuck up her four little legs 
and laid out her little tail stiff as a poker ! 
On the ninth day of her little life she 
opened her blinking blue eyes on this 
great wonderful world, in which she had 
as good a right to be as you or I ; but 
she did n’t seem to like the looks of 
things, for she soon closed those small 
eyes again, and never opened them more. 
Life was evidently too hard a conundrum 
for her poor, weak little brain, and she 
gave it up. 

Of course Katrina was greatly afflicted, 
. but she did not abandon herself utterly 
to grief. Had not her sister a kitten 
left ? and had not they two always had 
everything in common ? So as soon as 
the sympathetic children had buried her 
dead out of her sight under a lilac-bush, 


130 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


she went straightway to Katinka, and, 
with her full consent, began to divide 
with her the duties and joys of mater- 
nity. All three just cuddled down togeth- 
er in one nest ; from mamma or auntie 
Master Catkin took nourishment, just as 
it suited his whim or convenience, and, as 
you might suppose, he grew and thrived 
astonishingly. So equal and perfect was 
this partnership in the kitten, that it was 
impossible for a stranger to tell which of 
the two cats was the real mother. One 
day all three were brought down to the 
parlor to amuse some visitors. Both 
mammas seemed equally nervous about 
having the baby kitten handled,, and 
presently one of them caught it by the 
neck, — the cat’s usual, immemorial way 
of transporting her young, — and started 
with it for the attic ; when, to the surprise 
and immense amusement of all present, 
the other caught hold of the tail, and so 
the two bore it away in triumph. 

After this I am afraid the children gave 


KATRINA AND KATINKA. 


131 


the little kitten rather more travelling 
than he liked. It was such fun to see 
the two anxious cats following him, mew- 
ing, and at the first chance catching him 
up, and lugging him home in that absurd 
manner. Generally the real certain true 
mother seized on the head, but some- 
times she was magnanimous enough to 
yield the post of honor to the aunt, and 
take to the tail herself. 

So things went on for a few weeks, and 
then there happened to this estimable 
cat-family another sad event, — for this is 
a tragedy I am writing, though you may 
not have suspected it, — Katinka died ! 
What of has never yet been decided; 
physicians differed about it, and the cor- 
oner could not make it out. But this 
much is certain, Katinka died. The grief 
of Katrina was and is very affecting to 
behold. She mopes, she mews, and her 
slender tril, which she used to carry erect 
with such a jaunty air, droops dolefully. 
She takes no longer the " Constitutional ’’ 


132 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


trot down the walk to the front gate. 
Life seems to have grown dull and weari- 
some to her, and the pleasures of mouse- 
hunting and tree-climbing appear to have 
lost their zest. If she remembers at all 
the halcyon period when much of her pre- 
cious time was spent in a dizzy round of 
gayety, in a swift pursuit of a ball of cot- 
ton, or a futile pursuit of her own tail, it 
is in sad wonder that she could ever have 
been so merry and thoughtless. She 
grows thin, neglects her toilet, and often 
refuses food ; but when the children offer 
her catnip, she turns languidly away. 
If she were acquainted with Shake- 
speare, she would doubtless say, — Cmid 
thou minister to a mind diseased?'' Throtv 
physic to Bose and Jowler^ — I 'll none of 
ill" 

Friendly cat-neighbors call in occasion- 
ally, but they cannot console her. All 
the petting of the household fails thus 
far to make her cheery and playful as 
once she was. She is fed on the very 


KATRINA AND KATINKA. 


133 


" milk of human kindness/’ but grief has 
licked the cream off. 

She seems to find her only consolation 
in her care and affection for the mother- 
less catkin, and in his fondness for her. 
I am sorry to say that he does not show 
a very deep sense of his loss; perhaps 
he is too young to realize it. His good 
aunt seems sufficient for all his needs, and 
he thrives finely, is fat and jolly, and full 
of all kittenish pranks and mischievous 
tricks. Poor Katrina will have a time 
with him, I fear, as he is sadly petted and 
indulged. Such a lazy rascal as he is too, 
— don’t earn the salt of his porridge, 
that is, if he took it salted, — and, though 
quite old enough to go on the war path,” 
has never yet killed his mouse, or brought 
home a rat’s scalp, or a ground-squirrel’s 
brush, or as much as a feather from a tom- 
tit’s wing. Ah ! of all the darlings in the 
world, an aunty’s darling is the likeliest 
to be spoiled. 

This is all I know about this curious 


134 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


catrfamily. I hope, dear children, that 
my true story may not sadden you, for I 
really wish you, one and all, the merriest 
of merry Christmases, and the happiest 
of happy New Years. 

All I can say in the way of a moral to 
my little story is : How beautiful is 
love ! even when shown in the fortunes 
and sorrows of cats and kittens, how 
beautiful is love ! 


FEATHERED PETS. 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 

These strangely interesting birds, ac- 
cording to natural history, belong to the 
second bird family, the PsittacidcB. I nev- 
er knew how many wonderful and splen- 
did varieties this family contained until I 
saw living varieties of all, or nearly all, 
in the known world, in the Zoological 
Gardens of London, where they are kept 
in a great gallery, — a beautiful parrot 
paradise, all by themselves. They were 
a wonder to behold, but a perfect aston- 
ishment to listen to. The confusion of 
tongues was something almost distract- 
ing. The Tower of Babel, in its talking- 
est day, never approached it, I am sure. 
A large sewing-circle of elderly ladies 


136 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

might come nearer the mark. The col- 
ors of their plumage I have no words to 
describe. They fill my memory with trop- 
ic splendors whenever I think of them, 
to this day. 

’T is strange that but one species of 
parrots was known to the ancient Greeks 
and Komans, — the Parakeet of India, — 
at least up to the time of Nero. That 
gentle prince, with his amiable love of 
pets, is said to have sent emissaries far up 
the Nile to collect new varieties for the 
gratification of his royal whim and dainty 
appetite ; for, when the poor little cap- 
tives ceased to amuse him by their con- 
versational powers, he ate them. I hope 
they lay hard on his stomach, and made 
him talk in his sleep ! 

The early Portuguese navigators found 
parrots at the Cape of Good Hope, and 
at other points on the African coast ; and 
the very first creatures that welcomed 
Columbus to the isles of the New World 
were Parakeets. The Macaws of South 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


137 


America are very handsome birds, but 
not remarkably tractable or agreeable. 
They are fond of old friends, but are 
fierce to strangers, and have a singular 
dislike to children. The gray and scar- 
let parrot, called the Yaco, is a charming 
bird for a pet. It is clever and docile, 
and learns readily to talk, preferring 
to imitate the voices of children. The 
Cockatoos of New Guinea are very pretty 
and graceful pets. They do not like to 
be caged, but may be safely allowed to 
have the range of the premises, as they 
will immediately come when called ; thus 
setting an excellent example to rebellious 
children. The green parrot, most com- 
mon in this country, is a native of Africa. 

Dear old Dr. Goldsmith, whose Natural 
History is all out of fashion now, except 
with us old folks, tells some amusing sto- 
ries about parrots. Among -these is an 
anecdote of a famous fellow, belonging 
to King Henry the Seventh, Queen Eliz- 
abeth’s grandfather. This bird, sitting 


138 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


on his perch in the palace-yard at West- 
minster, used to hear the talk of gentle- 
men who came to the river to take boats. 
And one day, while overlooking the busy 
traffic of the Thames, he fell from a tree 
into the water; and while there, floating 
helplessly, he cried : A boat ! twenty 
pounds for a boat!’’ A waterman res- 
cued him, and took him to the king, de- 
manding his twenty pounds. The king, 
who was not remarkably generous, hes- 
itated about giving so large a sum ; but 
finally agreed to leave the amount of the 
reward to the parrot. That ungrateful 
fellow, who sat on his perch, still shaking 
the water from his feathers, when ap- 
pealed to, turned his head slyly on one 
side, and said, " Give the knave a groat ” 
(about fourpence). I hope, children, you 
won’t doubt the truth of this story; it 
is n’t good to get into sceptical habits of 
mind in early life. 

For many years there hved in the por- 
ter’s lodge of the old Pennsylvania Hospi- 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS, v 139 

tal a distinguished and venerable citizen, 
— a parrot of rare cleverness and intelli- 
gence. This famous bird belonged to the 
porter, and was one of many feathered 
pets, the chief favorite and familiar. A 
remarkable affection and sympathy ex- 
isted between these two friends ; yet I am 
sorry to say their relations were not alto- 
gether pleasant and peaceful. Innumer- 
able were their quarrels and make-ups. 
The bird was very knowing, and almost 
supernaturally gifted as a talker, espe- 
cially, hke some human orators, in the 
language of railing and taunting. The 
old man, his master, had one deplorable 
weakness, — he would occasionally drink 
too much whiskey ; so much that, getting 
quite beside himself, he would leave his 
lodge and his innocent feathered family, 
and go off on a desperate spree, which 
sometimes lasted for days. Now, Mas- 
ter Paul Parrot thought this weakness, 
through which he suffered in loneliness 
and neglect, very reprehensible and not 


140 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


to be winked at, and when the fit of dis- 
sipation Avas coming on his master, it is 
said, would remonstrate with him, in a 
friendly Avay, like a very Mentor. When 
this proved in vain, and he saw the mis- 
guided old man leave the lodge for some 
of his disreputable haunts, he would en- 
deavor to put a good face on the matter, 
would hop about on his perch in great 
excitement, and call out to the other 
birds: ^^The old man has gone on a 
spree ! — on a spree ! He won’t be back 
for a week ! Let ’s have a time. Ha, 
ha!” 

When the old porter came home, this 
naughty bird would be very apt to mock 
and taunt him, calling out : “ So you ’ve 
come back, — have you ? 0, how drunk 
you are 1 Now we ’ll have a row.” And 
there always was a row; for the indig- 
nant porter never failed to beat Mr. Paul, 
for his impudence, soundly. Then the 
bird, seeking the dignified retirement of 
the darkest corner of the lodge, sulked 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


141 


and muttered, till, the old porter’s good- 
bnmor returning, he made friendly over- 
tures. The two were reconciled, and 
everything was lovely ” again. 

At length the poor old porter died; 
and as his successor was no bird-fancier 
the feathered family at the lodge was 
broken up and dispersed. The clever 
parrot was kindly treated in a new home ; 
but he never seemed happy. He evi- 
dently missed his old master, — missed 
his caresses and his scoldings. Or per- 
haps he found the steady goings-on of a 
moral household too dull for his taste, for 
when I went to see him, I found him as 
glum, stupid, and morose as an old politi- 
cian who had had his day. All he would 
say was, 0 you goose I ” 

There is another curious parrot in Phil- 
adelphia, in a store kept by a maiden 
lady whose voice is so exceeding shrill 
and parrot-like that it is difficult to tell 
when she leaves off talking and the par- 
rot begins. One day, as a customer was 


142 


HISTORY OP MY PETS. 


examining an article on the counter, Miss 
Polly called out : " What are you doing 
with that ? Put it down ! put it down ! 
The lady looked round very indignantly 
for the offender, saying: ^^Well, ma’am, 
I must say you have a very impudent 
child.” 

There is in the same city another par- 
rot, who recites a verse of an old song 
in a most distinct and triumphant man- 
ner : — 

O pretty Polly, 

Don’t you cry, 

For your true-love 
Will come by and by.” 

There is in Brooklyn, New York, a par- 
rot that sings many of the popular airs 
correctly, and with as much expression as 
many fashionable singers give to them. 
This bird is singularly social and affec- 
tionate, and has a horror of being alone. 
He will sometimes awake in the middle 
of the night, and arouse the household 
by crying : 0 dear ! I am all alone ! — 

all alone ! Somebody come to me ! ” 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


143 


I have heard much of a clever parrot 
once kept by some relatives of ours on an 
old place in a quiet little village. Mis- 
tress Polly had free range of the house 
and yard, and throughout the town was 
as well known as the oldest inhabitant. 
Through all the pleasant weather she 
haunted the tall trees in front of the 
house, climbing to the highest branches, 
and from there superintending the affairs 
of the neighborhood, and making astro- 
nomical and meteorological observations. 
In the spring and autumn she watched 
from these lofty perches the flight of 
great flocks of pigeons and crows with 
intense but decidedly unfriendly inter- 
est. ' She would scream and scold at 
them in a most insolent and defiant man- 
ner, evidently criticising the order of 
their march and all their manoeuvres and 
evolutions, for all the world like a news- 
paper editor finding fault with the con- 
duct of great armies. Doubtless she w^as 
astonished and disgusted to see the great 


144 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


host sweep steadily on, following their 
leader, paying no heed to her shrieking, 
railing, and evil prophecies. Yet she was 
never so absorbed by her duties on the 
watch-tower that she failed to come to 
her meals. These she took with the fam- 
ily, perched on the back of a chair or the 
corner of the table. She was very fond 
of coffee, and was always provided with 
a cup.- She would take it up by the han- 
dle with her claws, and drink from it 
without spilling a drop. A terrible gos- 
sip and busybody was she, talking perpet- 
ually and doing all the mischief that lay 
in her power. She was the terror and 
torment of all cats and kittens ; for, wary 
and watchful as they might be, Polly was 
always surprising them by attacks in the 
rear, and cunning ambuscades and flank 
movements. Nothing more still and soft- 
footed could be imagined than her ap- 
proaches ; nothing more sly, sudden, and 
sharp than the nips she gave with her 
horrid hooked bill. A cat’s extended tail 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


145 


was especially tempting to her. She gen- 
erally fought the battle out on that line. 
" In maiden meditation fancy free/’ this 
parrot roamed about the yard, and laughed 
and railed at patient sitting hens, and the 
proud mothers of newly hatched chicks 
and ducklings. Sometimes she would 
follow a brood about, sneering and advis- 
ing, until the poor mother was in an ag- 
ony of worriment. At last she came to 
grief in this way. A spirited speckled 
hen, with a fine brood of young ones, 
tired of being snubbed and of hearing 
her offspring depreciated, and shocked at 
seeing the domestic virtues set at naught 
by a flaunting foreign fowl of infidel sen- 
timents, turned upon her, sprang upon 
her back, and began pecking and tearing 
at her sleek plumage like mad ! The 
feathers fell all around, like a shower of 
green snow ; and the parrot began scream- 
ing with all her might : Let up ! Let 
up ! Poor Polly ! Poor Polly ! ” 

Her mistress came to the rescue, and 


146 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


Polly skulked away to her cage, where she 
remained several days, sullen and deeply 
humiliated ; but when she emerged from 
her retirement she gave the hens and 
chickens a wide berth. 

Several parrots, the pets and compan- 
ions of religious persons, have been dis- 
tinguished by their piety, or what passed 
for such. These have usually belonged 
to devout Catholics. I have read of one, 
named VerUVert ^ — the inmate of a con- 
vent in France, and taught by the holy 
nuns, — who was esteemed a most blessed 
and miraculously gifted bird. His fame 
spread far and wide. Many made pil- 
grimages to the convent to be edified by 
his pious exhortations ; and at last the 
nuns of another convent, in a distant 
province, solicited the loan of him for a 
few months, for^the good of their souls. 
He went forth as a sort of feathered apos- 
tle, followed by the prayers and blessings 
of the bereaved sisters, and looking very 
solemn and important. But, unfortunate- 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


147 


ly, on his journey, he was compelled to 
spend a night on a steamer; and being 
kept awake by such new scenes, and per- 
haps a little sea-sickness, he listened too 
much to the unprofitable and profane talk 
of the sailors and some soldiers who were 
on board. And so it happened that,- when 
he reached the convent, where he was 
received with great joy and impressive 
religious ceremonies, instead of edifying 
the good sisters with exhortations and 
chants, delivered in a grave, decorous 
manner, he horrified them by shouting 
like a rough old sea-captain and swearing 
like a major-general, while he assumed 
the most knowing, rollicking air imagina- 
ble. Those saintly women stopped their 
ears, and fled from him as though he had 
been a demon-bird, and he was immedi- 
ately sent home in utter disgrace. There, 
through fasts and penances, he was 
brought round to more correct habits and 
behavior ; but he never became the shin- 
ing light he had been before his sudden 


148 


HISTORY OF WY PETS. 


fall. No more pilgrimages were made to 
his perch. Though grown a sadder and 
a wiser bird, it was impossible to tell 
whether he most sorrowed for his fault 
or regretted the wicked world of which 
he had had a taste. Still he made a good 
end, I believe, within the convent’s hal- 
lowed cloisters. 

A certain pious cardinal in Kome once 
gave a hundred crowns in gold for a par- 
rot that could repeat the Apostles’ Creed. 
Another religiously trained parrot once 
served as a chaplain on board of a ship, — 
actually reciting the service for the sail- 
ors, who listened and responded with be- 
coming solemnity. I have never seen a 
clerical parrot; but I have seen clergy- 
men who suggested parrots. By the way, 
the parrot would make a very economical 
sort of minister. After the first cost of 
the bird, his education, and a respectable 
cage or parsonage, there would be no de- 
mands on the congregation for increase 
of salary. As he would have no scruples 


OUR COUSINS THE PARROTS. 


149 


about repeating old sermons, he would 
not desire new fields of labor. Parrots 
seldom have any family, so he would 
expect no donation-parties. They never 
have dyspepsia, so he would require no 
trips to Europe. He would not, I fear, 
be very popular in the sewing-circles and 
Dorcas societies, — for he would talk 
down all the ladies. 


A dear young friend of ours has a love- 
ly pair of turtle-doves, that are constantly 
making love to each other, these soft 
spring days, in that delicious, drowsy 
honey-moon coo, ^^most musical, most 
melancholy.’’ 

Awhile ago the disastrous experiment 
was tried, of putting these doves into the 
cage with a parrot. Miss Polly did not 
fancy her dainty visitors in the least. 
She glared at them as they cuddled to- 
gether in a corner, eying her askance, 
and murmuring in the sweet dove dia- 


150 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


lect^ — Madame Columba very timidly, 
and Monsieur in a tender, reassuring tone. 
Miss Polly abominated such soft, love- 
sick voices, and such a parade of matrimo- 
nial bliss and affection just exasperated 
her; so she pitched into them, scolding 
fearfully at first, but soon coming to 
blows with her wings, then to scratching 
and pecking with her steel-like claws and 
fearful, hooked bill. When the hapless 
pair were rescued, it was found that the 
husband, who had fought gallantly to 
protect his wife, had met with a serious 
loss, in the upper part of his bill, which 
had been quite bitten off by that inhos- 
pitable old termagant, who had doubtless 
thought thus to put an end to his billing 
and cooing. 

The poor fellow lost some glossy feath- 
ers in this encounter. They have been 
replaced, but the broken beak has never 
been restored. Thus maimed, he is only 
able to drink from a perfectly full cup, 
and his loving mate invariably stands 


THE BENEVOLENT SHANGHAI. 


151 


back till his thirst is satisfied. She also 
feeds him when he has difficulty in eat- 
ing, and always carefully plumes him, as 
he can no longer perform that service for 
himself. Indeed, she attends to his toilet 
before her own. No fond wife of a disa- 
bled soldier could surpass her in watch- 
ful care and devotion. What a touching 
little lesson is this, of tender, faithful 
love ! I wonder if he would have done 
as much for her. Let us hope so. 


THE BEI^EVOLEHT SHANGHAI. 

I HAVE, long wished to record the ad- 
mirable behavior of a certain Shanghai 
rooster, once belonging to a relative of 
ours in the West. This fowl was old, but 
he was tender ; he was ugly, but he was 
virtuous, as you shall see. One of the 
hens of his flock died suddenly and mys- 
teriously, — of too many family cares, per- 
haps, for she left a brood of twelve hearty. 


152 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


clamorous young chickens. One of the 
children, the poet of the family, said : — 

“ Grandfather Shanghai 
Stood sadly by, 

And saw her die, 

With a tear in his eye.” 

Perhaps he received her last instruc- 
tions, — her dying bequest. If so, never 
was a legatee more burdened with respon- 
sibilities; for from that hour the good 
rooster adopted all those chickens, and 
devoted himself to them. When the 
fowls were fed, he guarded their portion ; 
he watched over them when hawks were 
hovering near ; he scratched and fought 
for them and stalked around after them 
all day, and at night, after leading the 
other fowls to roost, he would descend 
from the old pear-tree, gather those poor 
sleepy little things under him, and do his 
best to brood them. His legs were so 
long and stiff that it was a difficult job. 
First he would droop one wing down to 
shelter them ; then, seeing that they were 


THE GALLANT BANTAM. 


153 


exposed on the other side, would let 
down the other. Then, finding that he 
could not keep both down at once, he 
would try to crouch lower, and would 
sometimes tip himself entirely over. It 
was a laughable sight, I assure you. But 
somehow he managed to keep them warm, 
to feed them, and bring them up in the 
way they should go; and I hope they 
always loved him, and never made fun of 
their gaunt, ungainly old guardian, when 
they grew up, and went among the other 
young people of the farm-yard, especial- 
ly when chatting with the foreign fowls, 
the proud Spanish hens, and the pretty 
Dorking pullets. 


THE GALLANT BANTAM. 

I HAVE observed that while the Ban- 
tam pullet is a quiet, modest, little pan- 
tale tted lady, the Bantam cockerel always 
makes up in big feehng for what he lacks 


154 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


in size. A gentleman farmer owned 
a Bantam of this sort, that was always 
full and bubbling over with fight. He 
would go at any gentleman-fowl in the 
yard, with beak and spur. He would 
defy the fiercest old gander, and chal- 
lenge the biggest ‘^cock of the walk” to 
mortal combat. At last he grew so un- 
comfortably quarrelsome, and presented 
such a disreputable appearance, — having 
had the best part of his tail-feathers torn 
out, and his spurs broken off, — that his 
master was obliged to put him out to 
board with a nice old lady who had no 
fighting fowls for him to contend with. 
It was hoped that he would be content 
to tarry in that Jericho until his tail- 
feathers should be grown ; but one day, 
when his master paid a visit to his good 
neighbor, he found the little Bantam with 
his head badly swollen, and with a patch 
over one eye and across his beak, placed 
there by the kind olji lady. He had gone 
outside the yard, and picked a quarrel with 


THE GALLANT BANTAM. 


155 


a strange rooster, only about six times 
his size, and been pretty badly punished. 

A short time after, a big turkey gob- 
bler was added to the feathered commu- 
nity of that farm-yard, the old lady not 
dreaming of the Bantam cock daring to 
make hostile demonstrations against such 
a potentate. But she had done our little 
hero injustice. As soon as he saw the 
mighty spread the arrogant old fellow 
was making, he just gathered himself up, 
and went for him,” if I may use a slang 
expression, which I know boys, at least, 
will understand only too well. 

The big gobbler looked down upon him 
at first in contemptuous astonishment, as 
much as to say, " What fooling is this ? ” 
But when he saw that the fiery little fel- 
low was in earnest, he just struck him 
one blow with his terrible wing, and — 
well, the gallant Bantam went on his 
raids no more.” He was served as an- 
other savage Turkey served poor Crete. 
This is a world of tragedies and downfalls. 


156 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


On a late visit to the Central Park, we 
noticed, among the collection of fowls 
there, a Bantam cock, of the very small- 
est pattern, that yet seemed to have a 
big, gallant heart. We saw him in one 
of his soft moments, when, in fact, he 
was making love. He had been very 
ambitious in selecting the object of his 
adoration, for he was actually paying his 
addresses to a full-sized Shanghai hen, 
who was in a large cage, separated from 
him by a light lattice. He would strut 
up and down before her, ruffling his fine 
feathers, and making eyes at her. Some- 
times he would dance up sideways, de- 
claring his passion with a soft, musical 
murmur, that sounded like coort, coort,” 
which it would seem she could hardly 
resist; but she did, — not so much as a 
feather on her breast was stirred by his 
appeal ; she regarded him in placid dis- 
dain. Indeed, it was almost as funny to 
watch the tiny, strutting little creature 
making love to that superior fowl, as it 


THE DISOWNED CHICKS. 


157 


would be to see Commodore Nutt court- 
ing Miss Swan, the giantess. 

“ So daring in love and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e’er heard of knight like the young Lochin- 
var ? ” 


THE DISOWNED CHECKS. 

I HA YE a friend living in the very heart 
of the big city of Chicago, who owns 
several hens of rare varieties, and a flock 
of young chickens of remarkable prom- 
ise. She keeps them in her back-yard, 
which they utterly devastate, not suffer- 
ing a green thing to live, making it look 
like a small copy of the Desert of Sahara. 
Yet she says keeping them reminds her 
of the country! She is a very poetic 
and imaginative lady. It is very likely 
that a hand-organ reminds her of music, 
and flsh-balls of the mighty, briny deep. 

One of this good lady’s hens is a hand- 
some, stately fowl, dressed in gray satin, 


158 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


and wearing a top-knot that is like- a 
crown of silver. She has one chicken, al- 
most full grown, — the last of manj^ lively 
children, the victims of rats and the pip. 
Of him she is very fond. There was, at 
one time, great danger that he would be 
spoiled, — for she toiled for him all day, 
trotting about everywhere with him at 
her apron-strings,” so to speak ; and she 
actually broods him at night, though, do 
the best she can in spreading herself, she 
can’t take in all of his tail, unless she lets 
his head stick out somewhere. Thus he 
is content to sleep ingloriously, when he 
ought to be roosting on some lofty perch, 
ready to greet the first streak of dawn 
with a brave crow, prophetic of the day. 

A few weeks ago another hen, a young 
pullet, dressed gayly every day in gold 
and brown, with a gorgeous top-knot, 
came, on^ morning, triumphantly out 
from under the porch, with a large flock 
of charming little chicklings, who toddled 
along after her, and glanced up at the 


THE DISOWNED CHICKS. 


159 


sky, and round on the earth, — that vast 
sandy plain of the back-yard, — in a most 
knowing and patronizing manner. No- 
body would have guessed it was their first 
day out of the shell. They were not go- 
ing to show their greenness, — not they. 

For a Avhile those downy, yellow, cun- 
ning little roly-poly creatures seemed to 
amuse their mother; she appeared fond 
of them, taking pleasure in parading them 
before such of her neighbors as were 
chickenless. But she was a giddy biddy, 
lazy and selfish ; so, as soon as she found 
that she must scratch to fill so many little 
crops, she threw up maternity in disgust. 
She actually cast off her whole brood, 
pecked at them, and scolded them till 
they ran from her in fright, and huddled 
together in a corner of the fence, peeping 
piteously, and doubtless wishing they had 
never been hatched. Perhaps some were 
chicken-hearted enough to wish for death 
to end their troubles, till they caught 
sight of some ugly old rat prowling about 


160 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


seeking whom he might devour/’ when 
they reconsidered the matter^ and took a 
more cheerful view of life. 

Well, it came to pass that the excellent 
gray hen, with the one big chicken, see- 
ing their forlorn condition, pitied them 
exceedingly, and actually adopted the 
whole flock. Only think, children, it was 
as though your mother should adopt a 
small orphan asylum, and all of them 
twins ! 

She toils for them and protects them 
all day, treating them in all respects as 
her own chicks, till sundown ; then, not 
having room for them under her wings 
without dislodging her only son and heir, 
she always escorts them up the steps of 
the porch and sees them go to bed in a 
little box, which has been prepared for 
them by their kind mistress, with a cover 
of slats to guard them from rats and cats 
and bats and owls, and everything that 
prowls or lies in wait for small fowls. 
Well, when she has seen the last chick 


THE DISOWNED CHICKS. 


161 


tumble in, and cuddle down to its place 
with a sleepy good-night ^^peep/' to be 
brooded under the invisible wings of the 
soft summer night, that good, motherly 
creature descends with stately dignity 
from the porch to her own sleeping apart- 
ment underneath, when she mounts on a 
box, and, calling her one long-legged dar- 
ling, does her best to hover him, and to 
make believe he is a baby-chicken still. 
In the morning she is astir betimes, 
scratching and pecking for him and his 
adopted brothers and sisters with won- 
derful impartiality. I must do this same 
big chicken the justice to say that he has 
never made any violent opposition to this 
sudden addition to the family; but he 
has rather a haughty manner towards the 
little interlopers, and could we under- 
stand the sort of Chickasaw language he 
speaks, we might find him occasionally 
remonstrating with his maternal parent 
in this wise : " Really, mother, it strikes 
me you are running your benevolence 


162 


HISTORY OF MY PETS. 


into the ground, in scratching your nails 
off for a lot of other hen’s chickens ! such 
things don’t pay, ma’am ; charity begins 
at home, and one would think you had 
enough on your claws, in providing for 
the wants of a growing young cockerel 
like me, without doing missionary work. 
Besides, you are encouraging idleness 
and shiftlessness; it just sticks in my 
crop to have you burden yourself with the 
cast-off responsibilities of that impudent 
pullet, who goes cawkihg lazily about, car- 
rying her top-knot as high as ever.” 

The conduct of that unnatural young 
mother is, indeed, reprehensible. At 
meal-times she always comes elbowing 
her way through the crowd of her virtu- 
ous neighbors, to secure the largest share 
of corn-mush, not hesitating to rob her 
own children ! She will be likely to have 
a disturbing and demoralizing influence 
on the female feathered community. She 
shirks her duties, — declines to lay eggs 
lest chickens should come of them. She 


THE DISOWNED CHICKS. 


163 


believes the chicken population is too 
• large already" for the average supply of 
chickweed and grubworms. She discour- 
ages nest-making, and despises her weak- 
minded sisters, who, in spite of her warn- 
ing, persist in laying, sitting, and hatch- 
ing ; who really believe in the innocence 
of chickenhood, and actually love to 
brood their chicks, to feel the soft little 
things stir against their breasts, and to 
hear* now and then, in the still, dark 
night, their drowsy peep, peep.” She 
goes against all such silly sentiment and 
loving slavery. She pities any poor pul- 
let who has to spend her days in a coop, 
especially in Chicago. She is a sort of 
hen - emancipator, and strolls about at 
^^her own sweet will,” ^^in maiden medi- 
tation, fancy free.” 

If she could have the management of 
the hatchway, all chickens would be 
hatched with equal rights to wear the 
spur, and with equal gifts of crest and 
crow; all hatching would be done by 


164 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 

steam, in a general incubatorium at gov- 
ernment expense, in a way to astonish 
all grandmother Biddies ; sittings would 
be abolished, coops levelled to the earth, 
and the sound of the cluck be heard no 
more in the land. 

As for the poor cast-off chicks, they 
grow and thrive, get more steady on their 
legs, and put out tiny tail-feathers, tinged 
with gold, as the bright summer days go 
on. They doubtless think that their first 
mother was a mistake, and that their 
second mother is the certain true one, 
and honor her silver top-knot accord- 
ingly. 

So you see, dear children, there is a 
Providence for little chickens, as well as 
for little sparrows. 


THE END. 


Cambridge ; Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 




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